


Crimson Flowers

by KaidaShade



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fantastic Racism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Slavery, Slow Burn, Surgery, barbarian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 45
Words: 81,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: Knock Out has spent his whole life as a slave, passed from one owner to another and hearing stories of the savage, brutal bots that live beyond the city walls.  He never imagined that he would meet one, but after a near-fatal attack he finds himself stranded alone among a tribe of the barbarians.  His survival depends on learning their ways and understanding what the huge, hulking bot caring for him wants from him.What he discovers could change more than just his life, it could change their whole world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go. I've been working on this bad boy for nearly two years now, and I'm finally confident enough that I can finish it to start posting it. I'm going to try and get up one chapter a week, probably on Saturdays. 
> 
> HEED THE TAGS- The first couple of paragraphs are noncon, but after that there isn't any explicitly on-screen until much, much later, but it's mentioned a lot.  
> Special thanks to Alisette for betaing and lovingly applying the Boot of Motivation to my ass when I needed to write, especially during NaNoWriMo last year, for which this was my novel.

“Come now, pet, for the price I paid for you I expect a little more- hn- enthusiasm”

Knock Out let his eyes slide shut and leaned back a little in his master’s lap, his vents stuttering and his delicate claws gripping the seat. He might, he thought to himself, have shown a little more enthusiasm if his master had any sexual ability at all. He did not say this, of course, because the bot in question was easily twice his size and his life depended upon his master’s whim. Instead, he moaned as convincingly as he could and rocked his hips down on the thick spike inside him, calipers squeezing around it despite the jolt of pain that accompanied a poorly-timed thrust from below him. The sound he made at that was decidedly real, a gasp of pain that was willfully misinterpreted as a signal to continue, to wring more whimpers from his mouth as rough hands gripped his hips and dragged him further down the shaft.

“Better. Much better. Maybe I won't throw you out for the savages after all,” his master’s voice crooned, slurred with lust, and Knock Out turned his head away and tried to focus on something else. He felt sorry for their transport, having all this going on inside her while traversing the rough, scrubby plains between their home city of Tarn and his master’s ambassadorial home in Kaon. It irked him that he couldn't see out of the window from his unpleasant seat; the first half of the journey had almost been pleasant with the view, until his master had gotten bored of reading and pulled him into his lap. Now all he wanted to look at was the inside of his eyelids, it was infinitely preferable to the rusted old wreck currently pawing at his gleaming crimson paintwork.

Fortunately, his master was as lacking in stamina as he was in every other way, and Knock Out didn't have to endure for long before he gave one final thrust and spilled inside him, making his plating shudder. He hoped his disgust would be mistaken for pleasure, or he might just find himself thrown out for the barbarians who inhabited the plains after all. One heard stories about their savagery, kidnappings and rape and even sacrificing bots to their heathen gods. His master was bad enough, he thought as he was pushed off of the softening spike, back into his own seat where he squeezed his thighs together to try and avoid making a mess on the transport’s seats; he could only imagine how much more cruel and brutal the wild bots would be. But they hadn't seen any sign of them since they'd left Tarn, nor anyone else on the road. Just a few wandering animals and, a few hours ago, some kind of large avian circling in the distance. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Knock Out drew his legs in a little, trying to ignore the ache in his valve and the aborted click of the cover he no longer possessed trying to close. What use did a creature like him have for dignity or modesty after all? He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment to chase that thought away and then resolutely stared out of the window, watching the plains roll by. They were beautiful in a strange way, bronze and gold and verdigris grasses gleaming in the sunlight, dotted here and there with brighter flowers in chromium oranges and blues and vivid manganese purple. Very different from his own, often praised beauty in crimson and crisp white detailing. His master had recently decided to have him decorated with gold, and while it looked very pleasing on his wheels he wasn't so sure about the garish bands on his helm crest or the fine detail around his eyes, bright and shimmering in contrast with the black and red of his optics. The thick collar around his neck had also been gilded to match, not that it made it any more comfortable. No, there was nothing of the natural, subtle hues that dominated out here about him.

The avian was back, he noticed dimly. Or perhaps it was a different one, circling close enough for him to see the broad sweep of its wings and the long neck and tail that marked it as an animal and not a jet alt. Wait… he frowned slightly, leaning closer to the window to see it better as it came back around above them. No avian he'd ever seen had a tail like that, or the clawed, membranous wings that held this one aloft. That were, in fact, angling towards them.

The beast dived.

Knock Out barely had a chance to shout a warning before everything was thrown sideways, a massive talon smashing through the window where he had been moments before. He landed hard against his master and was thrown off, sent tumbling as the transport transformed around them and swept his master up in her arms, unholstering the enormous rifle she carried in case of attack. Knock Out hit the ground hard and wheezed as something sharp pierced his plating, pain lancing through him, and above him came the sounds of shots fired and the shriek of the beast as it dived again. He was disorientated enough that he barely managed to roll out if the way of one of the transport’s feet as she staggered back, grappling with their attacker. The movement dragged a cry of pain from his throat as whatever had pierced his armour was driven deeper, and he could do nothing but curl up and hope he wouldn’t be stepped on. He didn’t know how badly hurt he was, but his fingers came away gleaming blue and swam before his eyes when he touched the wound and he knew enough to know that wasn’t good.

The monster landed close enough to shake the ground and roared, and its call was answered by other cries, more familiar. Rescue? This far out? No, he realised as the sounds resolved into voices, a language he didn’t recognise. Nothing so fortunate. He was still bleeding and a sudden flare of dust forced him to shield his eyes, then the world around him exploded into a chaotic cacophony of shouting and engines and animal roars, the clash of metal and the awful flapping of wings. For a brief moment he thought he heard his master shouting, but then his voice and the shadow of the transport were gone, the sounds of something huge transforming and a massive engine roaring left in their wake. He tried to uncurl, but pain ripped through his upper body and he only managed to whimper.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, but eventually the beast roared its fury and the sound of wings retreated into the distance amid a ragged cheer. Knock Out did his best to hold still, hoping that perhaps these barbarians- what else could they be, out here?- would leave him alone if they thought he was dead. A few more minutes, and it probably wouldn’t matter. He could see the glow of the puddle of energon around him even with his eyes closed and the throb of pain was insistent, all-encompassing. A shadow fell over him and he couldn’t even summon the strength to lift his head, let alone run or try to fight them off. The last thing he knew before he went offline was a pair of rough hands on him, rolling him onto his back, and he hoped he’d be dead before they got a chance to do anything else to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown works on a patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be switching perspectives each chapter, mostly because I enjoyed writing it like this. Enjoy!

Breakdown had never been this close to a city bot before. Even as his strong, sure hands worked to try and stop the energon oozing from around the scrubby tree that had pierced his thin plating, he marvelled at the gleam of his paint and the biolights that flickered on his frame. He snapped himself out of it when one of his comrades called to him, insistent that they leave before the Predacon returned.

“Hang on a sec, I gotta stop this bleed before we can move.” He called back. He couldn't remove the branch just yet, not without making everything worse, but he could at least make sure his patient didn't bleed out. The salve Ratchet had given him seemed to work, the biolights on the wounded bot’s back steadying in their glow as the energon coagulated around the wound, rather than going out. A good sign. He sat back on his heels and looked round as Bulkhead’s heavy footsteps approached from behind him, the green bot flicking dirt from his wrecking ball before transforming it back into a hand. He peered over Breakdown's shoulder, curious, and Breakdown nudged him away. “Slag, they left their friend behind,” Bulkhead remarked, “Think he'll make it?”

“Maybe, if I can get him back to Ratchet in time. He needs a real medic.”

“You're a-”

“I'm just his assistant. Doesn't matter. Is anyone else hurt?”

Bulkhead shook his head, then stepped back as Breakdown carefully gathered the little city bot up in his arms. He was so light, built for speed rather than strength perhaps, and carrying him wasn't difficult. “We got lucky. Predaking didn't seem to wanna fight all that much. Guess he knows he's outside his territory here.”

“Bulkhead! Breakdown! Let's go already! We can rumble our engines at each other later!” Another voice called to them, Wheeljack’s white arm waving to get their attention. Arcee had already climbed up to the top of an outcropping nearby, her winglets twitching as she watched the sky.

“Alright alright, we’re coming.”

Normally, the return trip to their camp would take an hour or two of driving, but with Breakdown encumbered it took them most of the afternoon to get back. Arcee and Wheeljack, faster and more agile, scouted ahead while Bulkhead stayed back with him, ready to defend. The city bot was quiet in his arms, still offline with his biolights dim and his eyes closed, but alive and not leaking anywhere he could see. He was warm, his plating smooth and only a little scuffed from the attack, and a couple of times he caught himself lightly stroking him. No, he told himself, that was weird. This wasn't like taking an intended mate, the city bot wouldn't understand and he couldn't exactly woo him if he was unconscious anyway.

He'd managed to push the idea out of his head by the time they returned to the camp. The sun was setting and the soft glow of the campfires was a welcoming sight in the half-light. They were immediately waylaid by the clan’s medic, the grumpy old bot chiding them for taking so long and making him worry, though his bulky shoulders relaxed a bit when the only casualty was revealed to be a stranger. He ushered Breakdown into his tent, the warm glow of lamps and the scent of herbs welcoming and reassuring. The city bot was still unconscious, and Ratchet frowned deeply at his wound as he examined him.

“You did well with this, but he's lost a lot of fuel and we need to replace that as soon as possible, probably before we try and remove this and make him bleed again. Why don't you tell me what happened while I work?”

Breakdown nodded, frowning a little. “Will he be alright?” 

“Hard to say for sure how much damage has been done on the inside. Tell me what happened.” Ratchet repeated, shuffling off to hunt through his stores for a container of liquid energon, then returned to his patient to carefully pour it down his intake. 

Breakdown closed his eyes and recounted the tale, how they had been on patrol and seen Predaking circling in the distance, well outside his usual hunting grounds. How they'd seen him dive, and run to confront him only to find him fighting a massive city bot. How they'd sent him running and turned to prepare to confront the city bot, only to find that she and the smaller bot she'd been protecting had bolted, leaving this one behind. Ratchet was quiet, listening but focused on getting fuel into his patient. “Strange that one would be protected and not the other. Especially someone like this.”

“What d’you mean?” he looked down at the prone body, avoiding touching him while Ratchet was examining the wound again. 

“Well, look at him. All this gold, and the grooming. There's not a scratch on him apart from the obvious. Probably someone important, or the offspring of someone important. Certainly not someone who does hard work or even goes outside every day.”

“A priest, maybe?”

“Who knows? I've never seen a city priest, but if he is one maybe it would be best to leave him to his fate. I've heard stories about what they do to please their so-called gods.” Ratchet's plating flared up and he shuddered, then shook his head and continued with what he was doing. He was a bot of healing, he wouldn't let someone die on his watch whoever they were.

Breakdown didn't respond, just found a place out of the way until Ratchet ordered him to come over and help, getting his big fingers in to pinch torn lines while the branch was carefully removed. He thought he saw the city bot flinch, but it had to be an illusion. Nobody would be able to hold still through that without screaming if they were online. With the application of more of the coagulation salve and some careful sealing of lines, Ratchet stood up and stretched his back struts out with a faint creaking of joints. 

“Right. He's not going to die straight away, at least. If he makes it, we can take him and drop him off near his home before his friends start trying to look for him,” he said, “Get some more fuel into him, I think I need to warn Optimus about our guest in case trouble comes calling.”

“Wait, alone?” He stood a little straighter, a worried little frown on his face. 

“You're capable. I should know, I've been training you.” Ratchet quirked a brow ridge, challenging him to argue with his experience, and he lowered his head.

“Then… yes. Thank you Ratchet, I won't let you down.”

“Good. Go on. Fuel, for him and for you, and come fetch me if he wakes me up. Otherwise, I’ll leave his care in your capable hands.”

“Yes, Ratchet.” 

He waited for the old medic to leave before he set to finding fuel. His own container ended up on a table, half forgotten, as he gently tilted the city bot’s head back to open his intake and carefully dribbled it in, making sure it would go down his throat. At least he seemed alive enough to swallow on reflex, and slowly some of the brightness seemed to return to his biolights as his tanks filled. Even once the cube was empty he couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from that pale, elegant face, the little touches of gold highlighting the eyes and the crimson framing it. Sure, there were bots among his tribe with bright colours and bold markings, but they were almost all scarred from battle and the rough life of the plains, even the youngest of them had a few scuffs and scrapes. But this bot was strangely, fascinatingly glossy and he found himself with his hand hovering over one arched shoulder guard, resisting the urge to touch.

Which, of course, was when the city bot opened his eyes.

He went from prone and limp to scrambling away in moments, tumbling from the table he’d been laid on and hitting the ground with a clatter and a yelp. Breakdown jerked away in surprise, then leaned over to see him and winced when he saw him sprawled on the floor, clutching his injured side and gritting his teeth, red-on-black eyes squinted in pain but still locked onto him. His other hand tried to grip the floor, sharp fingertips scraping the rust-speckled metal, but his claws weren’t strong enough to find purchase.

Breakdown hopped down from the table and came around it, his hands held up in an attempt to show he wasn’t armed, but the city bot lashed out with his foot and hauled himself away, backing himself up into the corner with his injured side pressed to the flimsy tent wall and his legs drawn up, ready to strike if he came too close. Breakdown didn’t blame him; he was a large, intimidating warrior even to his own kind, and the city bot was so much smaller, his armour much thinner. He crouched down, offering a hand. “Easy, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” He tried to soothe, but the city bot just curled up tighter, cringing away from him. He didn't understand a word, he realised, and when he tried to get closer he whimpered something in a language Breakdown had never heard before, his voice rich and lovely but thick with panic. He backed off, then got up and backed off several more steps, keeping his hands where they could be seen. Unthreatening, or so he hoped. It seemed all he could do was wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has nsfw content, but it's relatively minor.

Knock Out had never been so afraid in his entire life. Apparently wherever he was, Primus wasn't listening to his pleas and he hadn't died. No, instead, he had come back online to a faint warmth under his back wheels and the soft rumble of an engine at rest nearby. At first he had hoped that meant he was back in his master’s house, recovering, but then he had opened his eyes and found himself confronted with a massive, blue brute about to touch his headlight.

Shouting and throwing himself away from the barbarian had seemed totally reasonable until he'd hit the ground. Even then, the pain lancing through his body from the wound was better than the awful crawling sensation on his plating from the near-touch. He had no idea what the barbarian wanted from him, but it couldn't be good. When he moved, Knock Out jammed himself into the nearest corner to protect his injury and tried to make himself as small and unappealing as he could. The wall was soft, some kind of fabric rather than anything actually protective, but it at least gave the illusion of cover. He was painfully aware of his exposed, vulnerable array, and drawing his legs up was a poor compensation. 

Every little sound of movement made him flinch, anticipating the inevitable attack. It had to be inevitable, that was what these barbarians did, right? They were savages, surely their self control wouldn't hold up when he was so tempting even to the civilised city folk he was accustomed to. Another shift, and the brute said something that Knock Out had no chance of understanding. A demand? It didn't sound like a question. One more shuffle, closer, and it was just too much. “No, please!” He screwed his eyes shut and hated the whimper in his voice. Pleading was pathetic, he'd learned the hard way that half the time it only encouraged his masters, but he just couldn't help himself.

Miraculously, the sounds retreated. He dared to peek out over his own pauldron after a minute or so to see the brute standing on the other side of the room, patiently watching him with solid amber eyes. That… that didn't make sense. Why had he retreated? Oh, he still had him cornered, but he hadn't attacked. It had to be some kind of trick, Knock Out decided. Making him relax so he'd be an easier target. He wouldn't be fooled, oh no. He could be patient too. He kept his eyes on the barbarian, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a way to escape. The fabric at his back was thick and heavy, but his claws were sharp and he suspected he might be able to slash through it if he tried. But it would take too long to make a big enough hole and the beast would be upon him. Not to mention that there was probably an entire horde of them out there if the sounds from beyond were any indication. No, better to handle one barbarian than perhaps dozens.

The barbarian still hadn’t moved. If he had to guess, he'd almost think the brute looked worried. But that was stupid; what threat was he to someone so much larger, and why would he be concerned  _ for _ him? Maybe he was just some kind of guard, keeping him for someone else? Knock Out could barely stand the uncertainty, the anticipation. Maybe it would be better to get it over with. To offer himself and hope that the brute would be gentle, unlikely as it might be. It had worked before, it never hurt as much if he didn't fight.

He vented hard and slowly shifted his hips, mustering his courage, and he spread his thighs to expose his valve. His teeth caught his lip and he averted his eyes. Better not to see it coming, and it looked good and submissive, unthreatening. The barbarian moved and Knock Out braced himself, but to his shock he backed away again, shaking his head at him. He looked up and saw that the barbarian’s eyes were locked firmly on the floor, though their glow had brightened in what Knock Out recognised as lust. “No?” He said, the word slipping out too-high and tremulous, disbelieving.

The barbarian said something back, still not looking at him, and brought his hands up and together in a closing gesture, which he repeated a couple of times until Knock Out got the message and squeezed his thighs back together. He relaxed visibly when he did, shook his head at him again, and patted a spot on his chassis equivalent to where Knock Out had been injured.

Oh. Not while he was hurt? He supposed it made sense; they'd fixed him up, it wouldn't do to knock something out of place. And it wasn't like he could leave. Even if he wasn't guarded, he couldn't transform with the crudely-patched hole in his plating and he'd just get lost in the wilds and starve, or be prey for some hungry creature, even if he did get away. And really, what waited for him if he did make it back to Kaon? Just his master, just being someone's plaything until they tired of him and sold him on again. Here or there, did it matter who was fragging him?

He curled up again and hid his face, the plates on his shoulders shivering as he forced himself to vent evenly. Maybe if the brute left, he'd allow himself a private moment of misery, but this wasn't the time. He heard footsteps approaching again, almost tentative, and held perfectly still until they stopped. The barbarian crouched in front of him, in arm's reach but making no attempt to touch him, and he dared to look up at him after a moment or two. He was huge; intimidating with his big, heavy hands and thick, scratched armour, but there was a tentative smile on his face and when he spoke his voice seemed gentler beneath the gravelly, growling tones of the words. Knock Out eyed him for a moment, then slowly reached up to grab the fabric wall and pull himself up with his good arm, which was awkward and painful but made him feel a little less trapped. The barbarian watched him but stayed crouched on the ground. Even then, his head reached Knock Out’s headlights when he finally stood straight on shaky legs. He suspected if he let go of the wall he'd fall straight on top of him and that was the last thing he wanted. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure where he was even going with this standing up business **.**

Fortunately-or unfortunately perhaps- he was saved from deciding by the arrival of a new bot. The tent flap was pushed aside, admitting a white and orange bot who blinked in surprise at him, then looked down at the barbarian on the floor. He apparently didn’t even need to speak to express his confusion, the blue barbarian launching into- presumably- some kind of explanation which- presumably- made sense to the newcomer. At least, the newcomer nodded along to it, and then turned his piercing blue eyes on Knock Out. He shrank back a little, pressed to the fabric wall but still on his feet. It felt like that bot could see straight through him, right down to his spark, which was thrumming in its casing. The newcomer considered him, then said something that sounded like a question. Knock Out’s blank look was apparently all the answer he needed; he defaulted to pointing, first at Knock Out, then at his wound specifically, then at the berth off to the side where he had woken up. When he hesitated, he repeated the gesture, a little more insistently.

Disobeying had never turned out well for him, and he carefully shuffled back towards the berth, his legs trembling under him until he was able to sit and take the weight off of them. It felt as though he’d driven a rally, and he didn’t know if it was fear or just plain exhaustion making him ache like he did. The new bot approached him and he stiffened, his plating flaring up before he forced it to flatten down, submissive. He was nowhere near as big as the blue bot, but he was broad-shouldered and his entire demeanour suggested he would take no nonsense from anyone. The faded-out medic colours only added to the effect, though whether he was  _ actually  _ a medic he had no idea.

The maybe-medic seemed to have no compunctions about touching him, and his spark stuttered when he planted a hand on his chest and pushed him down onto his back with a single, short word that he couldn’t understand. Knock Out stayed there, tensed up when the blue bot got to his feet, but he kept his distance as the two barbarians conversed with each other and that helped him to slowly relax. He even dared to roll over off his back wheels, which was more comfortable for him, and the orange and white bot glanced over and nodded his approval at him. Alright, so apparently he was to stay here. That was fine. All he wanted to do was be left alone to recharge right now, to recover from his injury so that maybe he could at least try to defend himself if need be. Right now, he couldn’t fight off a lightning bug.

The maybe-medic seemed to understand, and he disappeared behind him somewhere and returned a moment later with a rough-cut cube of energon, which he left on the berth by Knock Out’s head. He then backed off, and gestured to the blue bot to follow him with a few words. They both left the tent, leaving him alone. 

The fuel went down so quickly he almost didn’t taste it, but enough touched his tongue for him to note how sweet it tasted. It was barely comparable to the low-grade he was used to in the city, and he found himself trying to lick the dregs from the inside of the container before he released how stupid that was and set it aside. It did make him feel a little better at least. He was alone, in an unfamiliar place surrounded by bots who might want to kill him, or worse, but two of them had shown him something like kindness. Maybe he could at least rest for a little while unmolested…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is attempted

Breakdown found himself sent back to his own tent once he was done relaying to Ratchet what had happened. He caught himself leaving out the part where the city bot had exposed himself to him, though he wasn't sure why. Ratchet was severe and grumpy but he was almost impossible to fluster- unless you were a very particular bot- and surely he should know in case the lovely crimson creature tried something like that again.

But just the thought of it made Breakdown's engine rumble and his fans kick up a notch, and he hid his face in the blankets to try and push the image from his mind. Under other circumstances he would have tackled any bot who showed such eagerness. But… it hadn't been eagerness, had it? The city bot had been terrified of him, and even that inviting display had been accompanied by a flinch and trembling hands. His behaviour didn't make sense, certainly not for a noble or priest. He would have expected demands, a show of dominance, not submissive cowering and… whatever that was.

It bothered him, and it bothered him more that he couldn't get it out of his head, that his body reacted so positively to it. He growled at himself as he had to force interface protocols offline for the third time that night, tried to ignore the heat pooling determinedly in his array, and closed his eyes. “Go to sleep,” he muttered at himself irritably. It didn't work. Nor did it work for a good hour longer until he finally rolled over with a grunt of frustration and got up to go for a walk. He wasn't going to give in to this. He wasn't going to get off to a scared stranger, that was fragged up, even if he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d looked away as soon as he’d realised what he was seeing, but it was enough to catch a flash of gold, biolights in places he didn’t even know you could  _ have _ them.

The night air was cooler than within the tent, though it was just as still. This late, there were few other bots around aside from a few guards keeping watch by the light of glowing crystals. They nodded to him as he passed, but didn’t question his wandering. The familiar sounds of a slumbering camp were soothing to him; the rustling and shuffling of their animals, the distant calls of turbofoxes out in the plains, familiar ventilations and engine rumbles as he passed tents belonging to friends. It didn’t get the red bot out of his mind entirely, but he managed to push him to the back of his thoughts, and soon he found his feet dragging and his optics flickering just a little from tiredness. He took it as a sign to return to his berth, and mercifully he managed to fall offline moments after hitting the blankets.

The sun woke him, filtering gently through the tent fabric, and much as he wanted to immediately charge off to Ratchet's tent he made himself remain calm. He doubted the city bot would appreciate being woken if he'd slept at all, and he took the time to wipe himself off with a cloth and solvent after all the dust and dirt of driving yesterday. His blue and grey paint was dinged and scuffed all over but he'd never really paid an awful lot of attention to that; few of them did, aside from Starscream when he was around and the twins when they found the time. He focused on being clean, rather than worrying over details.

The camp was already busy when he emerged, a couple of small, young bots darting past as he left the tent, one calling a greeting before he transformed and shot off into the sky, much to the fury of his grounder friends. Breakdown chuckled to himself and carried on, joining a group tapping fresh energon from a batch of crystals that had been refining overnight. The crystals that grew here were excellent, drawing from the mineral rich soil of the plains and flavouring the resulting fuel perfectly, at least in his opinion. Sure, he'd drink anything he was offered, but he enjoyed this so much more. 

He hung around a little while, listening to the camp gossip while he fuelled up, then once he was done he obtained a second container for the city bot. Healing from an injury like that was bound to up his fuel demand, and perhaps it would help to make him less afraid. The thought made him smile, though it did falter a little when he paused outside Ratchet's tent. Should he give some kind of warning before he came in? Call out?

Ratchet would probably appreciate the warning at least and he called the old medic’s name. He waited a few moments, but there was no reply, only a quiet scrape of metal on metal. After a few moments more he dared to poke his head inside. No sign of the distinctive white and orange frame, just a pair of red eyes glowing at him in the tent’s dim interior, wide and unblinking. As his optics adjusted the rest of the city bot’s frame became visible, sat up on the berth with a blanket rumpled up around his hips. He held still for a moment , hoping the city bot wouldn't throw himself off the berth trying to get away again, then slowly brought his hands into view with the softly glowing energon held in them. “Fuel?” he offered. Sure, he didn't understand, but Breakdown hoped maybe he could teach him some words.

The eyes flickered downwards briefly before returning to his face, apparently reluctant to let down his guard. Breakdown let himself inside, holding out the container like an offering, or perhaps like he was trying to coax a frightened animal. The city bot watched warily, gripping the blanket like a shield until Breakdown stopped with the cube held just within grabbing range. He eyed it, then slowly began to reach up for it with delicately clawed hands. He seemed so cautious about just this little thing, as though he expected a trick, to be grabbed or have the fuel snatched away, and it made Breakdown's spark ache a little. 

He should have been paying more attention. The city bot jerked forward and grabbed the fuel so quickly he nearly clawed Breakdown's fingers, startling him into stepping back. He flinched as well, but still managed to gulp down the fuel so fast Breakdown was surprised he didn't purge his tanks from it. He curled up a little as he realised what he'd done and Breakdown held up his hands, backing up another step. The last thing he wanted was for him to be afraid, and the lack of hostility on his part seemed to help just a little. The city bot’s grip on the container loosened at least, with an audible creak from the strained material. He still looked like he was expecting an attack and his eyes tracked every little movement Breakdown made. Breakdown, however, let his eyes slide to his wounded side, which he noted had been turned away from him, the door on the city bot’s arm held carefully over it. They would need to check on that, he thought. Where was Ratchet?

As if the thought had summoned him, the old medic pushed aside the curtain of the back entrance, rubbing dull eyes with one hand. Still half asleep, probably. “You're early,” he remarked, his voice kept low and gentle to avoid spooking their patient. He still seemed a little spooked, tensing up and trying to keep both of them in view at once. It made Breakdown feel a little better that he apparently considered Ratchet more of a threat, more of his focus on the medic. At least until he spoke, then those bright scarlet eyes were back on him. 

“Yeah. Woke up early, figured I'd bring some fuel for our guest.”

“And none for me I see.” Ratchet huffed, though there was a tiny smile to his mouth that suggested teasing. “No no, I see how it is, I'll get my own. You can see how that patch is doing.”

“What? But-”

“You're capable. Better not to crowd him, anyway.” 

With that, Ratchet ducked back through the curtain, leaving Breakdown alone with a wary bot he couldn't communicate with, and a job to do. The city bot’s eyes were back on him, and he dithered for a moment before speaking. Introductions, maybe? He couldn't just keep thinking of him as ‘the city bot'. After a moment's consideration, he placed his hand on his chest and slowly and clearly said “Breakdown,” before gesturing to the other bot and cocking his head inquisitively.

The city bot frowned at him, confused, but realisation dawned quickly and he pointed at him. “Breakdown?” when Breakdown nodded, he touched his own chest and added “Knock Out.”

His voice was lovely and Breakdown couldn't help but smile and repeat the name. Knock Out. At least he knew what to call him now. It seemed to help a little that he'd bothered to introduce himself; Knock Out managed a wary smile of his own, though it vanished when Breakdown took a step towards him. Right, he still didn't know what he wanted. That required a little more thought to mime. 

He pointed to his eyes, then to Knock Out, then touched his side around where the injury was on the other bot and finished with that same questioning head gesture. It took a little longer for Knock Out to seem to understand what he was asking, and even then he didn't seem happy about letting him close. But he did slowly nod, shifting on the berth to reveal the foil patch Ratchet had stuck over the top of the wound. 

Breakdown approached slowly, holding his hands where they could be seen. Knock Out didn't take his eyes off him, but he held still and shifted onto his back to let Breakdown at the wound. He was as gentle as he could be as he peeled the patch away, but Knock Out still flinched when he touched it. He crouched to make himself less intimidating and had to resist the urge to try to pet him and soothe him; he wasn't an animal to be tamed, even if he felt a bit like a beast handler with the low, quiet way he spoke to him. 

He explained what he was doing and why as he peeled back the patch and set up a glowing crystal near the wound so that he could see the sealant-caked lines within. It was obvious that Knock Out didn't understand a word, but he watched him with a little less fear even when he had his fingers inside him, checking that there was no leaking or any damage they'd missed the night before in the urgency of stabilising him. A burst of static and a hiss of vents made him withdraw a little with a quiet apology, not wanting to hurt him. “I'm sorry, I know it hurts to touch. I'll be done soon.”

Knock Out frowned a little, not understanding, and Breakdown returned to his work and tucked a couple of cables back into their proper places before he withdrew his hands and carefully stuck the patch back over. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “There, all done,” he said, then backed up a little with his hands raised. Knock Out relaxed a little more when he was out of arms’ reach, and he touched his fingers to the patch. He said something that Breakdown didn't understand, but the little nervous smile it was accompanied by implied thanks of some kind. It changed his whole face when he smiled, transforming something that was just pretty before into a visage that made his knees go a bit weak. He was absolutely gorgeous, and Breakdown had to give himself a good mental shake to force himself to stop staring.

“You're welcome,” he replied, “Do you need… wait, you can't understand. Never mind. Really gotta figure that one out…” but who here would know both languages? Starscream maybe, but who knew when he'd be back, when he'd found out this morning that the elegant Seeker had been carried off again a couple of days before?

Knock Out just looked confused all over again, and Breakdown sighed a little. Luckily he was spared from having to make awkward small talk with someone who didn't understand a word by Ratchet’s return. He had a container of energon in his hand and seemed surprised to see them so close. “Well frag, seems like you're getting on great with him.” 

Knock Out flinched and Breakdown sighed softly, put himself between him and Ratchet. “Sorta. He's still scared and he doesn't understand a word we say but I got his name at least.”   
“He let you check his wound?”   
“Yeah. Seems to be healing well, no rust or corrosion or leaking or anything.”   
“Good. I’ll trust your judgement for now, best not to have too many people poking him about at this point. We’ll have to try and teach him a few words, enough that he can understand what’s going on.”   
“I was gonna get Starscream involved, but he’s gotten kidnapped again.”   
“Oh, right. Well, he’ll be back in a few days when he gets tired of being courted, knowing him. Until then we’ll just have to make do.” Ratchet sighed, scratching at the side of the chevron on his forehead.   
  
Breakdown glanced around at Knock Out, who was still watching the medic like a chromehawk. ‘Making do’ might be about the best they could manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! This is going to be a long haul but I'm already delighted with the response I've gotten.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out learns more about the tribe

Perhaps, Knock Out considered once the two barbarians left him alone again, the big one wasn’t quite such a brute after all. No, his name was Breakdown, he reminded himself; he’d actually bothered to take the time to introduce himself. He’d tended to his injury so carefully, those big hands restraining all of their strength to avoid hurting him. Not, he considered, the actions of some barbaric creature only interested in claiming him.

But it also went against everything he’d ever heard about the tribes. What if it was all some ploy to get him to lower his guard? But then again, when would he ever be more vulnerable and weak than this? He lay on the berth for a while, letting such thoughts chase each other around his processor, then let his restlessness get the better of him and sat up with a frustrated sigh. Even just doing that upset his gyro and he swayed a little, closing his eyes to fight off the dizziness and pings of pain from his side. He needed to move, he thought. Not necessarily to escape, but he was going to drive himself insane just lying here. The sounds of outside filtered through the tent’s walls, though they were thick enough to muffle them well, and he had to know what was going on.   
  
His masters had always complained about his inquisitive nature, he thought as he forced himself to his feet, holding onto the berth until he found his balance. It hurt, but he felt a little better just being up and able to defend himself, if only in the most pathetic way. Once he was sure the ground had stopped swaying beneath his feet, he gingerly headed for the tent flap. He’d just peek out, just for a moment, just enough to prepare himself for whatever horrors they might inflict on him.

The sun overhead was fierce and after the dimness of the tent he had to reset his optics a few times before he could see anything at all, and he listened intently the whole time for any sign that he'd been spotted or of danger. The dusty silver shapes of tents eventually came into focus around him, clustered around a central space containing several fire pits. A couple of those had strange contraptions set up near them, which were being carefully monitored by members of the tribe. Others sat nearby, doing little jobs and talking in their strange, gruff language. It seemed more like engine sounds and grinding gears at times, though it didn't scare him as much as it had, and he was able to pick out the light hearted tone of their speech, a few laughs interspersed with the words. 

Something darted by and he shrunk back behind the tent flap, though his curiosity was roused again by excited barking and he peered back out to see a tiny little bot chasing some kind of animal he'd never seen before. It looked like the little turbofoxes one of his masters had kept as pets, but easily ten times the size, with claws like knives and vicious teeth. But it seemed almost cautious as the tiny bot tackled it and they went rolling around together, the small one laughing as the creature batted at it gently with a paw and rumbled its motors.

One of the other barbarians looked up at the commotion and called out, a warning tone in her voice, and the small bot gently disengaged from the beast and flopped down on his aft to let it lick his face. Was he a minicon? Knock Out had seen those before, albeit fleetingly, but they were usually stockier and this one looked like he had some kind of flying alt that didn't fit his small stature.

The one who had called out looked up then, and Knock Out felt his spark freeze as she met his eyes. Her own eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and then she smiled at him and said something to her neighbour, who looked up too. He ducked back out of sight, fuel pump pounding and making him dizzy all over again. They seemed peaceful, but who knew if that would last, if he was really safe in here, even? Surely there had to be a reason for the brutal reputation of the tribal folk?

He carefully limped back to the berth with more questions than he'd had to start with. If only he could understand, he could maybe ask Breakdown. He knew trusting the first bot he'd seen here wasn't the brightest idea, but the big bot had been nothing but gentle with him so far, had even turned him down when he'd offered himself. He didn't think anyone had ever done that before. He seemed to be some kind of medic, were they forbidden such pleasures perhaps? The priests were, back home, and it wasn't unreasonable to assume that healing might be seen as holy by these people. Or maybe he'd never done it before and he didn't want to let his first time be with a glorified toy like him. 

A noise close to the outside of the tent made him freeze in place, laying on his good side but turned in such a way that he could see the door. The tent flap ruffled in a passing breeze, but nobody came inside. He sighed through his vents in relief and let his head rest on his arm. Being so wound up all the time could not be good for him, he hadn’t been this twitchy since that one master who’d liked touching him in his recharge so much…

That thought was interrupted by another rustle, except this time a now-familiar blue and grey bot let himself inside, illuminated by the glow of an energon container. Knock Out managed to refrain from flinching away from him, even greeted him with a smile. “Good to see you're back. You're almost not scary anymore.” He remarked, though his thighs clenched together under the blankets on instinct and his voice wasn't as confident as he would have liked. Breakdown cocked his head at him, obviously not understanding, but he smiled anyway and offered him the fuel. He steeled himself not to snatch it; the big bot hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t even tried, and if he didn’t antagonise him hopefully that wouldn’t change. The energon out here was still so wonderfully sweet, and it was almost enough to distract him from Breakdown’s eyes on him. 

He took his time drinking, savouring the delicious energon now that his tanks weren’t sending him warnings every few minutes as they had when he’d first awoken. His master hadn’t been particularly concerned with feeding him anything but his spike when they’d been on the road, and he’d long been trained not to complain. But now, he was genuinely grateful for the fuel and he managed a sincere “Thank you,” hoping that the tone would get the message across. Breakdown seemed to understand, and his grin was downright infectious as he replied. For a big barbarian brute, he was strangely endearing, and for a moment Knock Out found himself smiling back at him, until their eyes met and he looked down again sharply.   
  
Breakdown cleared his throat and he glanced back up, watched as the big bot pointed at him, then to the tent flap, ending with that questioning head-tilt he’d come to understand. He spoke slowly as he did so, asking a question. Did he want to know if he’d been out? If he wanted to? Hard to say. He was curious about his captors, and if Breakdown was offering him a chance to see… he took the risk and nodded.   
  
Breakdown approached him slowly, keeping his hands where Knock Out could see, and he carefully offered him one once he was close enough. When Knock Out didn’t respond right away he beckoned to him, saying something that was obviously supposed to be encouraging. He had to steel himself to take that hand and let Breakdown help him off the berth, and his spark stuttered when his legs wobbled and he ended up leaning on the big bot. It didn’t seem to bother him though, and he waited until Knock Out had his balance before sliding his arm around his shoulders.    
  
Knock Out froze instantly. The sun-warmed metal around his shoulders felt like a vice, cutting off his vents. He couldn’t shove him off, couldn’t lash out, even when every instinct demanded he do. It would only make things worse if he tried to resist. Experience told him that. 

Experience didn’t prepare him for Breakdown to let him go, to back off with what sounded like an apology and crouch in front of him, so he could look up into his face with a worried frown. He blinked. Had his reaction been so obvious? What… what did he do now? Any of his masters would have punished him for such an obvious rejection, but Breakdown just looked concerned. He asked a question, but Knock Out just shook his head in incomprehension. He didn’t understand any of this, and his spark wouldn’t stop whirling in his chest and making him lightheaded. The barbarian reached up and he flinched back, grabbing the side of the berth for balance.   
  
It seemed to get through to him, and Breakdown stood up and stepped back, his hand extended but not close enough to touch. He said something, his voice soft and- of all things- apologetic, and with that tone of voice the offered hand seemed almost like a peace offering. Knock Out eyed him, and Breakdown gestured to the both of them, and to the tent flap again. He then held up his hands and backed off a step, then beckoned to him, coaxing him.

Slowly, Knock Out inched towards him, testing his balance and the strength of his legs. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t transform and drive with the patch over his wound. But Breakdown had backed off the moment he’d shown fear, it seemed he had no desire to hurt him. And he did want to see outside. The barbarian waited for him, patient, and when Knock Out drew level with him he offered his arm for him to hold on to. Knock Out took it, and the warm metal felt much better when it was under his hands rather than enveloping him. Almost pleasant.

Breakdown led him outside slowly, and he had to reset his vision again out in the harsh daylight, loathe as he was to take his eyes off anyone here. He tensed when he opened them again and found several sets of eyes on him, open and curious, but nobody tried to approach him and Breakdown was a weirdly reassuring shield. He let him look around, taking his time to take in the small groups of bots around him. Apparently the novelty of him soon wore off and they went back to what they were doing, and he managed to relax enough to let Breakdown show him around.

The camp was tiny compared to the city he’d come from, perhaps only a few dozen bots, and it was clear that everything here was temporary. There were no permanent roads or paths, only the well-trod areas where the ground was a slightly different colour, or burnt patches where there had been fires previously. Most of the tents were around the same size, aside from the one they had come from and two or three others clustered around it which were larger. Clearly the one he’d been holed up in was the healer’s tent, and he suspected the others might belong to tribe leaders, or perhaps a priest. Did they have those? He doubted there was much room for temples here.

There were other bots around, standing guard near the edge of the camp, and one particular bot caught Knock Out’s attention. He was taller than any around him, painted blue and bright red, and Knock Out’s spark gave a weird little tug as he laid eyes on him. As Knock Out stared he almost seemed to sense his attention, because he turned an inquisitive, blue-eyed gaze on him after a few moments. Breakdown paused and said something, inclining his head politely as the other bot started to approach. Knock Out, on the other hand, couldn’t resist shrinking back behind him. He didn’t doubt that this one could snap him in half if he so desired.

But he did the same bizarre thing Breakdown had; he stopped. He came to a halt well out of arm’s reach, apparently deciding to talk to Breakdown from there rather than getting up close and personal, or trying to touch Knock Out, even though he heard his name in the conversation a couple of times so it was obvious they were talking about him. Breakdown didn’t try to make him come out from behind him either, and that on its own was enough to make him feel slightly braver and come out on his own. Perhaps he had a protector here.

The large barbarian was probably some kind of leader, judging by the deference shown to him, but there was nothing particularly fierce about him now that Knock Out looked more closely. In fact his smile was kind when he looked at him, his voice a gentle rumble. It was difficult not to return that smile, though Knock Out’s own was still nervous and his spark was still doing something strange. Breakdown noticed and gestured to his leader to get Knock Out’s attention, then slowly and clearly said “Optimus Prime.”.

Knock Out stalled for a moment, then instinct took over and he immediately dropped to his knees, muffling a hiss as his wound was jostled. A Prime, out here? And he had just looked at him and smiled so casually? He'd never even seen a Prime up close before; even the masters who had been high enough for an audience with one hadn't for a moment considered bringing their berth toy to the meeting. He'd probably have been killed for sullying the holy leader with his mere gaze back home. He wanted to beg mercy, but surely daring to speak without permission would only be worse.

Someone touched his shoulder and he froze, eyes firmly on the dirt as the Prime’s voice came from just over his head, barely audible over the humming of his spark. He sounded… concerned? Hard to say, but Breakdown's reply was definitely worried as he called his name. The Prime’s hand cupped his face and lifted his chin, and he found those bright eyes a scant span from his own. He asked a question, but Knock Out could only shake his head, his hands trembling against the ground. He wasn't worthy, this wasn't his place, the Prime was touching him and why would he do that, why would someone so holy touch  _ him  _ and why did it feel  _ familiar _ ? He didn't dare pull away until he was released and the Prime’s footsteps retreated, and only then did he glance up to find Breakdown crouching at his side, his hand held out for him to take.

He took it and let him pull him upright, let himself lean on him for just a moment as he asked something. The same question the Prime had asked. What could that even mean? He just shook his head, lost, and Breakdown gestured back towards the healer’s tent. Knock Out nodded; yes, going back seemed like the best idea. He had to figure out what had just happened. What was a Prime doing out in the wilds, instead of in the heart of the city where he could rule as Primus- or at least, his priests- proclaimed? And why had he allowed Knock Out to look at him, why had he touched him? Surely he must see what he was, when it felt like his eyes had seen through to his very core? Did this mean Breakdown was important too, if he'd talked to him so casually?

But he couldn't ask, and they couldn't tell him. All he could do was stick close to Breakdown as they made their way back and watch the activity of the camp around him. A few bots stopped Breakdown to talk, and Knock Out listened and tried to find meaning in their words. He was starting to notice a few words similar to his own language at least; he caught something that sounded like ‘energon’ and a couple of other words, but not enough to make sense of the conversation. The effort was draining, and by the time they made it back to the tent he was inclined to fall into recharge again. 

Breakdown helped him back onto the berth, and he smiled and mumbled a thank you as he settled down. The big bot seemed about to reply, when from outside came the roar of a jet engine coming in to land. He perked up instantly, grinned, and with what sounded like a goodbye he bolted from the tent, leaving Knock Out to fall asleep alone and confused


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, kind of a short one and slightly late but yesterday was busy and it's damn hot in the UK right now, so my brain's a bit frazzled.

“Starscream!” Breakdown yelled as he ran outside, just in time to see the jet transform midair and land on his feet in a dramatic, graceful slide. His call was lost amid others, members of the tribe attracted by the theatrics as Starscream straightened up and brushed dust from his plating. His grace didn't last for long; he was almost immediately tackled by two other Seekers, toppling all three of them to the ground in a tangle of wings and long limbs.

“Brother! We were worried you were gone for good this time!” Skywarp crowed, gleefully nuzzling against the wriggling Starscream as he tried to escape his embrace.

“It's only been a week, Skywarp! Get off of me!” He protested, swatting at Thundercracker as he laughed at him and eventually managing to extract himself from the pile.

“Well, yes, but that tank who carried you off was  _ very _ handsome and we thought you might accept him.”

“ _ You _ thought that, Skywarp, we all know nobody's good enough for Starscream.” Thundercracker teased, nudging Starscream with his elbow as the grey jet’s wings flicked up indignantly. 

“There's nothing wrong with having some standards!” He drew himself up to his full height, as dignified as it was possible to be after being tackled to the dirt, “He was a bore and a brute and far too slow to even escort me home, I enjoy a little intelligent conversation rather than just a lot of flexing. Not that you'd know anything about that, Skywarp.”

“Hey!” Skywarp went to protest, but Starscream was already stalking away on his long, shapely legs. 

Fortunately, his route towards his tent took him right past Breakdown, who managed to wave and get his attention. The Seeker was of a height with him but weighed maybe a quarter as much, his slender grace a sharp contrast to most of the bots in the tribe who were far more solid. There were still some who thought of him and his trinemates as outsiders, but just because they hadn't started life in the wilds didn't mean they didn't contribute. In fact, it was that very nature that made him so useful to Breakdown right now. Unfortunately, he didn't seem especially disposed to be helpful.

“What is it Breakdown?” He drawled, somehow managing to look down his nose while looking straight ahead. “I've had a long flight and I've little interest in chit-chat.”

“I know, I'll make this quick. We rescued a city-dweller from Predaking while you were gone and his language sounds kind of like one of the ones you spoke when you uh, joined us. He's scared to slag of everyone and… I dunno, seems like a good idea to explain to him that we're gonna take him home once his injuries heal,” Breakdown explained, turning to walk with Starscream as he started moving again. The Seeker at least seemed to consider his words, cocking his head and tapping his chin as he sauntered through the camp towards one of the energon distilleries. 

“Hmm. Just the one?”

“Yeah, there were others with him but they left him for dead. It's weird though, he looks important. All gold and shiny paint, you know?”

“I see.” Starscream blinked slowly as he poured fuel for himself, and he waited until he'd drunk it before he replied, his mouth curling in distaste, “So you want me to reassure some spoiled cityling that the nasty savages won't hurt him?”

“Uh… Well I'd rather you didn't put it like that but… Yeah?”

“Fine. Tomorrow, though. I want to rest and relax a while first. Why didn't you ask my brothers?”

Breakdown pulled a face, “They're… not as good with words. And I don't think they ever learned as many languages as you did?” 

Starscream smirked, though it seemed a little forced, “Good answer. No, they didn't learn our captors’ tongue beyond what they needed to get by. I'll speak with him, provided he's not too self-important, but you'll owe me.”

Breakdown nodded, keeping his thoughts on Starscream and self-importance to himself.

“Thanks, Starscream. I'll bring you some of those sweet crystals that grow on our patrol route, does that sound good?”

“It will suffice,” Starscream nodded, waving him off with a taloned hand as he drank some more. Breakdown left him be, feeling a little lighter now he knew at least someone could hopefully talk to Knock Out, perhaps soothe his nerves. He'd never seen anyone react like that to Optimus, he'd never really encountered anyone who was frightened of him at all. On the contrary, he was the kind of bot who seemed to put others at ease, always calm and steady with an authoritative presence that made it seem like he had all the answers. But Knock Out had been even more terrified of him than he had been of Breakdown, and he desperately wanted to know why. It occurred to him that maybe he should have brought that up with the Seeker, but it was a little late now. Maybe he'd find out anyway, all Breakdown could do was wait and keep trying to communicate with Knock Out in their awkward, stunted game of charades.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, someone who understands...

Knock Out slept through much of the rest of the day, interrupted only by Breakdown checking his wound, and a spark-stopping moment when the Prime poked his head through the tent flap to speak with the other medic, who’s name he had managed to deduce was ‘Ratchet’. Knock Out pretended to be unconscious throughout, hands tucked under the blankets to hide how they trembled. Even at a distance, the Prime seemed to tug at his spark, as though some strange power called Knock Out to him, and it frightened him. Nobody else seemed to feel it; the medic even laughed at something the Prime said, something he was sure he hadn't heard him do before, and they left together and let him drift into recharge alone.

He was awoken by voices the next morning and looked up to see Breakdown talking to a tall, slender flier near the tent entrance. Not just any flier, he realised. The expressive wings and build marked him as a Vosian; something Knock Out had only encountered rarely, being sold for extortionate prices that even his exquisite looks couldn't command. They’d become exceptionally fashionable in Kaon, after the city of spires had fallen to their superior might. But this Vosian wasn't in chains, his wings held high and proud even as they fluttered at whatever Breakdown said to him, and his scarlet eyes were bright and interested rather than dim and broken-spirited.

That sharp gaze quickly landed on him, and the Vosian gestured and said something that made Breakdown exit the tent. Immediately Knock Out felt more vulnerable; when had Breakdown started feeling like a protector? 

“You can stop pretending to be offline now,” the Vosian remarked, and Knock Out lifted his head and stared as he realised he could understand him. He dropped his eyes quickly, and the Vosian made a curious little sound. “Hmm. Breakdown said he thought you were a noble, or a priest or some such. But you won't even look me in the eyes, and you wear a collar, so I doubt that's true, is it?”

“No, sir,” he shook his head. How had they gotten that idea? He flinched when the Vosian snorted.

“Sir? I like that, it's been a very, very long time since anyone's shown me proper respect. But there's no need for that; by Kaon standards I'm no better than you. You may call me Starscream, Breakdown asked me to explain things to you. I'm sure you have questions, but first, your name?”

Knock Out nodded, relaxing a little. Oh, he had so many questions, and it was so hard to decide which to ask first, which was most pressing. Which would he even be permitted? “My name is Knock Out. I would like to know what's expected of me, if nothing else.” He said, his fingers curling into the blanket as he pushed himself fully upright. If Starscream had once been in his position, as he implied, perhaps he would understand, “I don't know what Breakdown- or anyone else- wants from me, it... makes things difficult.”

“What's expected?” Starscream cocked his head at him, and there was something approaching pity in his face, “Very little, honestly. What's expected of you is to heal enough that you can be taken home, at least, that’s what was assumed.” The Vosian considered him, his talons tapping on his chin. Knock Out noticed how sharp they were, a stark contrast to the filed down stubs he'd seen on others of his kind. “But having seen you, I'm not sure that's what you'd want at all. I've lived in Kaon. I know what things are like for slaves there.”

Knock Out’s grip on the blanket tightened a little. “Then you know that what I want doesn't matter. You know what happens to runaways.”

“They don’t survive, so they say. But you aren't dead, are you? They have no power to take you back, here. I would know. I'm sure Breakdown would return you if you asked him to, but this tribe doesn't hold with slavery. Haven't you ever dreamed of being free?”

“Of course.” Who hadn't? But it had always been an impossible dream, like imagining that he could fly. It seemed far too easy for it to be within his grasp now, through sheer accident.

“You can have that. It'll take you a little while to learn the language, the customs, but you wouldn't be the first stray Prime’s taken in and you won't be the last. You've met him, Breakdown mentioned that?”

“Yes. How can you talk about him so irreverently? Is he not a real Prime?”

“Oh, he's the real thing. But he leads by example, not shows of force and power. The tribes believe that Primes are guides to show us the way, not chosen to conquer from on high in their golden towers.” Starscream’s mouth curled irritably, but Knock Out decided not to ask. Vos, he knew from listening to his master, had been razed at the order of the Prime. That, he supposed, would explain why Starscream was so familiar with Kaon’s unsavoury side.

He considered it, fiddling with the blanket. “He would let me join the tribe? Even though I have no useful skills? I don't know exactly what you think I am but it wasn't exactly skilled work.” His thighs squeezed together, and though they were covered by the blanket the downwards flick of Starscream’s gaze showed that he'd noticed. His wings twitched and for a moment Knock Out thought he'd been too bold, instinctively steeled himself for punishment or rebuke. But no, Starscream didn't strike him.

“You can learn. You're too small and soft to be any kind of warrior, but you look fast so you might make a decent scout, or else you could learn a craft. And nobody here will touch you without your consent, so you don't need to clamp your legs shut every time someone looks at you.”

“You'll have to forgive me if I have a hard time believing that. Experience has always suggested otherwise.” He shuddered, pulled his knees up protectively. 

“That I can believe,” Starscream nodded sympathetically, thinking for a moment. “I'll tell them the truth about you, since it'll be a while until you have the words to do so yourself.”

“Is there… any way you could not do that? Just… let them think I'm someone worthwhile for a little longer?”

“I could. But these bots value honesty. You'll probably look better telling the truth straight away than you will when it comes out later. They won't treat you worse as a former slave than they would as a senator. Might even treat you better, considering what you've been through.”

Knock Out considered it, studying his blanket-covered knees. “Maybe. The lie must be fairly flimsy if you clocked me so easily.”

“To be fair, I know what I'm looking for. They see expensive taste and assume it must be yours, rather than your master’s. Former master’s. I assume you  _ don't  _ want to go back?”

“No.” he shuddered, shaking his head. If Starscream was telling the truth, this place could be paradise. It was a big if, but he found that presented with the chance of freedom he'd rather die than give himself back to his old life. “Tell them the truth, please. I want to stay. I don't know if I even could go back.” No doubt his master would have replaced him already, with something prettier. He was damaged goods now, he thought as he rested his fingertips against the patch on his chest. Worthless.

“Good choice. In that case, I can start teaching you their language. I would offer you a download, but...” he pulled a face, tapping a panel in his arm that would normally conceal a data transfer cable, but seemed to have been crudely welded shut at some point, “apparently my former masters considered me untrustworthy enough to remove that ability. No matter. If Skywarp could learn it, you'll manage.”

“Thank you,” Knock Out even managed a tiny smile, and perhaps he was far too quick to trust Starscream, but it was such a relief to talk to someone he understood, someone who seemed to see him as an equal no less, that it was far too easy to relax. Except for one little thing, one little thing that was making his tank churn nervously…

“What do you want in return?”

Starscream chuckled and examined his claws. “From you, nothing. Breakdown asked me to talk to you, and he's agreed sufficient compensation for my efforts. If you owe anyone, it's him, and he's too kind to ask when he knows full well you have nothing.”

Somehow, that completely failed to be reassuring. Breakdown had been nothing but kind, but Starscream was right; Knock Out owed him his life. What if he decided to call in that debt? He vented hard, making up his mind. “Then I'd best learn how to thank him properly, at the very least.”

Starscream smiled, then crossed the tent to sit on the berth next to Knock Out’s and leaned down to get on his level. 

“That's a good place to start. Now pay attention, you have a lot to learn…”


	8. Chapter 8

To Breakdown, it seemed that Starscream had been gone for an age by the time the Seeker sought him out. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't worried at all about what Knock Out might say, what thoughts he might reveal to someone who could understand them, but Starscream didn't seem especially perturbed or worried when he dropped down from the sky and landed in front of him with a flourish. Totally unnecessary, but he and his brothers had always seemed to enjoy their theatrics and most of the tribe humoured them at this point.

“Did you talk to him?” Breakdown tried to contain his eagerness, but he couldn't manage small talk or not fidgeting as he awaited the answer.

“I did.” Starscream, on the other hand, seemed to be being deliberately slow and casual, brushing dust from his plating and flicking his wings a couple of times to settle them comfortably on his shoulders, despite Breakdown’s restlessness. “He seems a little reassured now that the situation has been explained to him, and you’ll be pleased to hear that he wants to stay.” He smirked when he heard Breakdown’s fans whirr in surprise   
“What? Why would he do that? I mean, that’s great, but why would  _ I  _ be happy about that?”   
“Oh, I don’t know. You just seemed rather invested in his well being. I assumed you had some designs on him, he  _ is _ very pretty,” Starscream purred, then held up a hand, “But you should really know that you’ve formed a few misconceptions about him.” 

Breakdown blinked, cocked his head at him. “What do you mean?” 

“He’s no noble, quite the opposite in fact. The collar he wears signifies that he belongs to someone- or belonged, I suppose.”   
“Belonged… you mean, he was a slave? That’s awful!”   
“Quite right it is! So you’d best make an effort to treat him well. He doesn’t know how to be a free bot, I suppose we’ll have to teach him. Luckily for you you have me to teach him our language or you’d never get anywhere.” Starscream was preening, and Breakdown felt no guilt for interrupting him.   
“Wait, so… is that why he…” His fans buzzed and he felt his plating heat in embarrassment. “He doesn’t think I want to… you know, keep him like that, does he?”   
“Perhaps he did. But I’ve set him straight on that matter. He knows you won’t hurt him now, you should go and see him later in fact. He has some things to say to you.” 

Breakdown opened his mouth to question that, but Starscream was already sauntering away with a little wave of his hand. He frowned after him. What in the Pit could Knock Out say to him when they didn’t even speak the same language? He supposed he’d just have to find out; it was around time to bring the city bot some fuel anyway.

When he peered into the tent, however, Knock Out didn’t seem to notice him right away. He had his back to the flap and was holding on to one of the support poles, looking at the bunches of thin crystal stems hanging from the roof. He reached up to touch one just as Breakdown let himself in, and the sudden light caught his attention and had him whipping around wide-eyed, fast enough to make himself wince when he tugged at his wound. “Hey, Knock Out, it’s okay, just me.” He said, holding up his hands. It was a strange relief that Knock Out relaxed almost immediately when he recognised him.    
“Sorry,” Knock Out said sheepishly and shuffled towards him, moving carefully. Breakdown couldn’t help but smile to hear him speaking his language, however simple the words.    
“It’s okay,” he nodded, holding up the fuel he’d brought, “Energon?”

“Please.” Knock Out perched back on his berth and took the container, holding it between his delicate hands for a moment to appreciate it before he drank. Breakdown could understand; it was as fresh as it could get, still warm from processing. 

Now he had a chance to look, to see Knock Out for what he was, he didn’t know how he’d ever mistaken him for someone used to calling the shots or even getting his own way. He always seemed to make himself smaller when he sat; he avoided people’s eyes, kept his legs close together and his arms tucked against his sides and his head down to avoid drawing attention. The gold collar around his neck, assumed to be some kind of strange city fashion, drew his eyes now like a flame and he wanted nothing more than to destroy it, to rip it off and melt it down in front of him so Knock Out knew he would never have to go back to that life.

Knock Out seemed to notice him looking and he eyed him from behind his energon, wary. Breakdown managed to look sheepish, and touched his fingers to his neck where the collar would sit. “Do you want me to take that off?” He asked, miming grasping something and pulling it away from his neck. 

It didn’t quite have the intended effect. Knock Out flinched and leaned away from him, covering the collar with a hand protectively. Had he misunderstood? Breakdown crouched down in an attempt to be less threatening and gestured to his neck again. From that angle he could see better, and he felt his spark sink as he realised there was no visible clasp on the collar, just a single smooth band, like it had been welded in place and buffed to hide the seam. Knock Out shook his head, and the way it moved suggested the collar was stuck to the back of his neck, not just wrapped around it. Maybe he should get Ratchet to look at it, he thought as he pushed himself back onto his feet. “Sorry. It just looks painful.”

Knock Out watched him, but when he didn’t try and approach him again he relaxed a bit. He almost seemed to be gathering his courage for something as he finished his fuel and deliberately set the container aside, meeting Breakdown’s eyes for a moment as he touched the collar. “No. Please?”

“Okay. No touching.” Breakdown nodded, and was rewarded with Knock Out instantly relaxing. He supposed it could wait until they could understand each other better.   
“Thank you.” He vented audibly, then continued; “thank you for saving me.”

Breakdown blinked, surprised. It was easily the most he’d heard Knock Out speak at once, even if it sounded like a phrase he’d practised rather than something he’d said spontaneously.   
“Oh! It’s… no problem. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?” He smiled, and received only a blank look. Right, Starscream couldn’t exactly have him fluent in a couple of hours. “You’re welcome?” He tried, and Knock Out smiled. Hesitantly, yes, but it was a real smile and Breakdown’s spark felt like it might escape from his chest. Sure, it probably wouldn’t be easy, but it was so strangely good to know that he was going to stay, that they might get to know each other better. It would be so good, seeing him become less afraid, settle into the way they lived. Perhaps even… no. No that was stupid to think about, he doubted Knock Out would want a mate after all he’d been through. He gave himself a good mental shake.

Back to business. He gestured to Knock Out’s wounded side, and the city bot nodded and allowed him to examine the injury, which already seemed smaller as his self-repair worked to rebuild it. The edges were bright, shiny silver where they’d grown but the paint hadn’t regenerated, and he made a mental note to get him some of the good, rich ore they’d found near their last camp. It would help a lot with the healing if he had enough raw material to work with. At least his patient seemed calm enough; he watched his every move, but he seemed relaxed about it provided his hands didn’t stray towards his collar or too close to his waist.

He let him be once he was done with that, promising to return in the morning even if he was fairly certain Knock Out wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Knock Out reply as the tent flap closed behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly early this week because I'm going to be on vacation for the next week or so, so next update will probably be a bit late, depending how exhausted I am when I get back.

A week or so passed, with Starscream visiting every morning and Breakdown coming in intermittently throughout the day, and Knock Out found himself learning faster than he’d ever imagined he could. He’d never really been presented with the idea that he could be intelligent; some former owners had allowed him access to their libraries but he’d never been  _ tested _ in anything. Learning from Starscream was different; he was relentless and demanding, insisted he spoke the tribal language at every opportunity and all but refused to speak to him in Kaonite except to teach him new words, but when Knock Out managed to ask- with perfect grammar no less- if he could go outside, the flier rewarded him with a smile and a small, blueish crystal from the pouch he fished from his subspace. 

  
“Well done, you’re learning remarkably quickly. Yes, I think you can. You live here now, you can go wherever you want.” He said, repeating himself more slowly when Knock Out struggled to keep up. “Eat that. It’s good.”   
“What is it?” He examined the crystal more closely, holding it between his fingers and letting it catch the light. That was fast becoming his favourite phrase, since it was a perfect way to pick up new vocabulary. Breakdown always seemed delighted to show him things, and even gruff Ratchet had spent a little time showing him the different plants he used in his medicine, explaining their use in a combination of miming and pointing to body parts along with words.

“Energon crystal.” Starscream explained, tossing one into his mouth and crunching down on it with evident delight, and that was enough to convince Knock Out to try it.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavour, the slight electric crackle as the crystal shattered between his teeth, and he didn’t say anything as he savoured it. “Good?” Starscream asked, his smile suggesting he knew exactly how good it was. Knock Out nodded, his mouth occupied, and Starscream handed him another one for good measure before he got up. “Let’s go then. A walk will be good for you.”

Knock Out nodded and scrambled up after him, having to almost trot to keep up with Starscream’s long stride. It took him a moment to realise that he could do that, rather than having to hobble around all the time, and he marvelled at how quickly he was healing. Every scratch and scrape he’d gotten in the past had always seemed to take an age to heal, but he supposed he was better fed than he’d ever been. And the fuel out here was so much better. Even wounded, he had far more energy than he’d ever had before. The tribe were becoming accustomed to his presence, too, and only a couple of bots looked up as he and Starscream exited the healer’s tent. They smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back. The barbarians didn’t seem quite so frightening any more. The tales had only ever talked of them marauding or raping and pillaging, not repairing equipment on colourful mats outside their homes and laughing at each other’s jokes, or gently wiping mud from the face of a much smaller, protesting bot. They were hard to be afraid of when it was so obvious how much they cared for each other.

Starscream did slow down for him after a few moments, letting him catch up and walk side by side with him. Even the gentle exercise was part of the lesson, Starscream pointing to things and asking Knock Out to name them in the tribe’s tongue, telling him the word if he didn’t already know it, or asking him questions and expecting him to answer. He used encounters with other bots to demonstrate proper manners, and the others seemed delighted to get involved with teaching the newcomer. They encouraged him to talk to them, to practise gestures and greetings, and their smiles when he got it right made him feel downright strange. They were happy for him, interested in him, and now that he truly looked he saw that their eyes didn’t wander over his body like so many others had. If they were looking, they respected him enough to hide it, and that revelation made his processor spin.

They had just finished one such conversation, Knock Out dipping his head in the customary parting gesture, when a cry went up from one of the lookouts. It was a call that meant a patrol was returning, as he had learned over the last week, and the nearing dustcloud was soon visible even to him. The three usual patrol members hurtled through the ring of tents a minute later and transformed with a flourish, and he realised with a start that there were, in fact, four bots there, one being carried by another. Starscream saw him looking and nudged his arm with a little smirk. “Come, I think this will be educational for you.”

Knock Out took a couple of steps after him and froze. The extra bot’s hands, he could see now, were bound, and he was slung so carelessly over the other’s shoulder. Like some prize or trophy carried off from battle. Starscream sighed, his wings fluttering, and looked back at him. “Are you coming?”

He didn’t want to, but obedience was second nature to him and he shuffled after the Vosian, watching with dread as the captive was lowered to the ground. The tribe was starting to gather, and with it the sick feeling in his tanks. “There’s nothing to fear.” Starscream told him as they halted near the edge of the loose circle forming around the camp centre, where they could see without being in the way. And now, closer to the action, Knock Out could see that the captive didn’t look particularly concerned by his captor circling around behind him. A moment later his bonds were cut, and he turned with his hands on his hips to look the other bot up and down, his eyes critical. If anything the captor looked more nervous, standing straight and flaring out his plating to make himself look bigger and stronger.

A few tense moments passed, then the captive shrugged and reached out a hand. His captor seemed to deflate with relief as he took the offer, then turned and led him away to his tent amid what Knock Out suspected were catcalls from the rest of the tribe. He just stood confused, watching them go, and Starscream chuckled somewhere over his head.

“You see? Nothing to worry about.”    
“What… what was that?”

“Traditional tribal courtship. I know, it alarmed me too at first. But it’s all very carefully controlled, quite nuanced actually.” Starscream shrugged, switching to Kaonite. It seemed he knew full well Knock Out wouldn’t understand enough for this conversation.   
“Kidnapping is nuanced?”   
“It’s not exactly kidnapping. It’s more… capture in battle I suppose? Occasionally patrols cross paths, and a bot from one tribe might find one from another attractive. So of course, they challenge them to a fight, and if they win they may take the other bot back to their tribe, as you’ve just seen. The loser is only obliged to give their captor three days to win them over, and after that they can demand to be returned home whenever they want, and the captor must take them. It’s not about hurting anyone or forcing them to do anything, it’s about showing them that you are strong and capable and would make a good mate.”

It seemed more reasonable, Knock Out had to admit, when Starscream put it like that. But still… “And what if someone doesn’t play by the rules?” He asked quietly. A bot taken from their friends, nobody to defend them. In his experience, anybody would take advantage.   
“The rules are sacred. Someone who tried to force someone to stay or to frag them-” Starscream didn’t even notice Knock Out’s wince, “- would find themselves cast out by their own tribe. After all, if the other bot’s tribe found out, there would be a fight. The tribe could be destroyed. Nobody wants that. And nobody wants a rapist in their midst either.”

Knock Out swallowed a response, just shaking his head. Nobody had ever seemed to care overly much back in the city. “I suppose that makes sense. And… what if you just find someone, say, injured out in the wilds? Can you just... take them?”

“That,” Starscream said, raising a brow ridge, “is called rescuing someone. It’s got nothing to do with courting them. And what happens after that, whether they stay or return home, is up to them. You’ve chosen to stay, so you’ll be a proper member of the tribe soon. Optimus just wants you to be able to understand the ceremony. Is that what you’re worried about, that Breakdown expects something from you?”   
“...It’s not out of the question.” Knock Out mumbled after a pause, his fans whirring in shame. Starscream’s face softened for a moment, then he patted him on the shoulder and turned away, gesturing for him to follow.   
“No, he doesn’t want anything like that from you. I doubt he thinks you’d ever look twice at him.”

“How do you know?”    
“Because he says as much any time anyone asks him about it. He knows you’re not interested and he’s not going to put any pressure on you about it, not after everything he imagines you’ve been through. I told you before, nobody here expects anything from you, nor will they touch you without your permission.”

“Oh.” He fell silent for a while, letting Starscream lead him back through the camp to settle with a small group working on processing energon crystals harvested earlier that day. The process was fascinating, and he watched quietly for a while before his mind caught on something particular Starscream had said.   
  


“‘Ceremony?’”    
“Hmm?”   
“You said about a ceremony, before?”   
“Oh, that. Nothing to worry about. Whenever someone new joins the tribe there’s a ceremony to welcome them. Prime will give a speech, introduce you formally to everyone, and then we all have far too much fuel and enjoy ourselves. There’s usually dancing, I don’t know if anyone in Kaon even does that.”   
“Only for other people to look at.” He pulled a face, instantly uncertain about the whole ordeal. One of the other members of the group cocked his head at him and smiled.    
“It’s fun, don’t worry.” He said, speaking slowly to make sure he would understand. “Everyone is too busy enjoying it to look at everyone else. It’s time to make friends, not lovers.”

“Hmm. Maybe, then.” Knock Out nodded, unconvinced. He would most certainly not be doing that. The only dancing he’d ever seen had been far too suggestive, especially considering his missing panels. But he could watch, perhaps, learn more about the people he was to join.

They stayed a little longer, lingering until the energon had finished processing and they could drink it still warm, which was wonderful, and then they made their way back to the medic’s tent where Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, but Breakdown’s eyes brightened at the sight of them.   
  
“Oh good, you’re back. Optimus was here, looking for you… are you okay?” He frowned a little as Knock Out felt his expression go from a smile to something akin to dread.    
“Why?”    
“It’s okay, he just wants to talk I think,” Breakdown said, gesturing for Knock Out to come and sit down on his berth. He complied, glancing back as Starscream cleared his throat, waved and exited the tent to leave them alone together. After their earlier conversation, Knock Out wasn’t sure what to make of that. “You don’t have to be scared, Optimus is nice.”   
“Sorry.”   
“You don’t have to be. You’re new, and you’re learning.”   
“Mmm. He’ll come back?”

“Yeah. And Ratchet. He wants me to-” a couple of words Knock Out didn’t understand, “-you. Is that okay?”   
“What?” The question had Knock Out leaning back a little, worried. Ratchet hadn’t been involved with him much, though he’d deduced that Breakdown answered to him and he’d seen him looking after other patients.    
“To um… look at you? All of you? Like I do with this.” He pointed to his wound, then gestured to all of Knock Out. His claws curled against the berth and he felt the energon in his tank churn. Breakdown was fine, he told himself. Breakdown had never done anything to him, had no desire to. But the thought of anyone’s hands all over him made panic flicker in the back of his mind, even ones as gentle as Breakdown’s. But surely, Breakdown would get in trouble if he forced him to disobey Ratchet’s orders.

Breakdown seemed to notice his hesitation and frowned, and Knock Out ducked his head submissively and averted his eyes. “It’s okay.” Breakdown’s voice came as a soft rumble. “You don’t have to. I’ll tell him.”

“It will be okay?” He looked up, still not quite meeting those lovely amber eyes, “for you, too?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Ratchet won't be mad. We won't do anything you don't want, okay? That's important.”

Knock Out nodded, relieved. He'd gotten the idea already that refusing to be touched wouldn't get him punished, but to hear it stated explicitly was reassuring. “Later, maybe. But not now. Too much.”

“Okay. I'll tell Optimus and Ratchet to let you rest, yeah? Have you fuelled?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good. I'll leave you alone then.” Breakdown pushed away from the berth, and something in Knock Out’s chest twisted strangely. He didn't quite know why, but he wanted him there just a little longer. 

“Wait. I…” No, it was stupid, what was he supposed to say? “Thank you, Breakdown. You are very kind. See you soon?”

“You're welcome? Yeah, I'll be back in a few hours. With Optimus, maybe.”

“Okay.” Knock Out nodded, then once Breakdown had gone he laid down to rest. He didn't sleep though; the day had left him far too much to think about.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up everyone I'm back from vacation, it's a short one but I think an important one.

Breakdown left him to rest, as promised, and made his way through the camp to report to Ratchet. The old medic turned out to be with a patient, who was sitting outside his creators’ tent and trying his best to put on a brave face while Ratchet examined some torn off plating on his arm. Ratchet didn't even look up when Breakdown approached, just said, “hand me a screwdriver,” and held out his hand. Breakdown complied almost without thinking about it and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way at the patient.

“Hey, Hot Rod, what happened this time?” 

He was rewarded by the little bot puffing up his plating proudly, only to wince when the injured bit tried to move.

“I almost beat Jazz in a race! I would have, but I, uh, crashed a bit… I'll get him next time!”

“Wow, pretty impressive.”

“Hmph. I'd be more impressed if I wasn't the one fixing this.” Ratchet grumbled, “Sparklings already think they're invincible, Breakdown, don't encourage him.”

“I'm not a sparkling! I'm nearly an adult!”

“Tell me that again when you come up higher than my waist, scraplet. Lucky for you this was a clean tear and I can just replace the whole plate instead of digging little bits of metal out of your wires. But be more careful next time, you could have really hurt yourself. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't given your poor creators a meltdown yet.” Ratchet shook his head with a huff from his vents and set about taking measurements of the missing plate, while Hot Rod looked vaguely stunned. He stayed quiet until Ratchet was done with him and shooed him off back into the tent with a promise to come fit the new plate tomorrow and stern instructions to sit  _ still  _ for once, damnit!

Breakdown watched him scurry away and offered Ratchet a hand to stand up, which was waved away with a grumble. “I'm not that old, Breakdown. Even if I swear that bitlet ages me a century every time he sets foot outside.”

“He's not that bad. Just… ambitious.”

“And he's going to get himself killed if he doesn't rein it in. Now, I assume you didn't come looking for me to watch me patch up Hot Rod. What is it?”

“Its Knock Out. He doesn't want a full exam, I don't think he wants to be touched that much. So I told him it's fine, he doesn't have to.”

“Hmm. It would be better. Who knows what kind of damage or viruses he's picked up over the years?” Ratchet frowned, scratching his chin. “If he's staying, his health is our responsibility. I don't want him dropping dead from something we could have fixed. But…” he sighed and folded his arms, his eyes dimming, “I can't say I blame him. You'll just have to be vigilant while you're treating his wound.”

“Yeah… about that…” Breakdown shifted his weight uncomfortably, looking away from Ratchet's gaze. “Are you sure you can't treat him?”

“What?”

“Look, before you say anything I know I can do a good job. It's just… hard to explain. Being around him is hard. I'm worried I'll be… I don't know..”

“Tempted?” Ratchet quirked a brow ridge at him. Breakdown's eyes widened a moment and his plating burned with shame. Was it so obvious? “He's beautiful, yes?”

“Yeah…”

“You want him?” Ratchet persisted, stepping closer. Breakdown backed off, wondering if this was some kind of trap.

“Well…”

“What are you, Breakdown?”

“What?”

“Are you an animal? Some turbofox who doesn't know any better? Or are you a bot with reason and self control? Yes, he's attractive, but you know better than to just fondle people without asking and you're not going to forget that just because a flashy paint job and a pretty bumper catches your eye. Are you?”

“No Ratchet.”

Ratchet reached out and tapped him on the head gently. “Then there’s no problem. You’re a capable medic, Breakdown. I entrusted his care to you because I think you can handle it, and you need to prove that to yourself.” He assured him, offering a rare smile that helped Breakdown relax just a little. “And I’ll be there if you do need help. You’re not alone in this.”

“It’s… just that? You’re not trying to… I don’t know, engineer something between us?”   
Ratchet snorted. “Primus, no. Certainly not in the circumstances. I want the best for both of you, I’m fairly certain a relationship isn’t that right now.”

“Both of us?”   
Ratchet faltered, fans whirring. “Well, of course. He’s a patient, I want the best for all my patients. Speaking of which, I suspect he’s hungry, you should check. Off you go.” Breakdown opened his mouth to protest but found himself being shooed away abruptly, any attempts to pry further stubbornly ignored.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, but PLOT

“You summoned me, oh blessed one?” The ambassador poked his head around the office door warily, gesturing for his new attendant to wait for him outside. The slave shrank away from him into the shadows, where he stayed. Not as well-trained or expensive as the old one, but a reasonable stopgap. 

Within, the Prime sat upon his throne, glittering with gold and practically radiating authority and power. The ambassador felt his legs tremble with the urge to sink to his knees, to prostrate himself before that mighty aura. The Prime’s eyes fell upon him, red as burning lithium but somehow cold. 

“I did. Enter.” He intoned, gesturing for the ambassador to come closer with one jewel-encrusted hand. He sounded almost bored, but the Prime did not summon anyone for trivial matters, the ambassador knew. He shuffled in, sinking to one knee as he approached the throne. “I hear that you were attacked on your way here, and lost something of value?”   
“You heard correctly, exalted one. My transport was set upon by some beast of the wastes, then ambushed by savages. I lost an expensive trinket, but nothing that cannot be replaced,” he assured the Prime, his eyes downcast.

“A trinket? I was led to believe that it was a living mech that was lost?”   
“Only a slave, my lord. Killed in the attack. A shame, he was pretty and useful, but as I said, nothing that cannot be replaced.”   
“You are certain he was killed?”   
“If not by the beast, then the barbarians. He would not last long among their kind, especially not injured.”

The Prime didn’t reply, and the ambassador heard him shift in his throne, saw his shadow loom over him. “I dislike untruths, ambassador.”   
“Sir?” His voice came out far smaller and higher-pitched than he liked as that oppressive aura of power washed over him.

“My agents have informed me that his collar is still active, though the I/D chip in his chest appears to be deactivated. Damaged detonator, perhaps. Your slave is still alive and is loose, ambassador. This is unacceptable.” The Prime rose, and the ambassador cringed away just as the slave outside had. He had never felt so small. “I see your little mind working. I know you question my judgement. Why, you wonder, does the Prime care so much about one insignificant escaped slave? Really, it should not matter to you at all, because it is my decree and that of Primus that this escapee must be caught. Or disposed of, failing that. You will not fail me, will you ambassador?” Those burning cold eyes seemed to be melting holes into the back of his head, and he shook it earnestly while his vocaliser tried to reset itself.   
“N-no, your magnificence! Of course, I will see to it that he is found! I would never dare question your will.”

“Good. Now do not fail me. Dismissed.” The Prime returned to his throne, and with a gesture sent the ambassador scurrying for the door. Not fleeing, of course, never fleeing. Just… a swift retreat. 

His new slave looked up smartly, standing swiftly to attention and awaiting his orders, but he just hooked a finger through his collar to drag him off without deigning to speak to him, and ignored the squeak of alarm that followed as he staggered after him. He would obey the Prime’s orders - he wasn’t foolish or suicidal enough not to - but first he had some stress to work off, or he’d never be able to think clearly.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Knock Out awoke with a strange sense that he wasn’t alone in the tent, even before he opened his eyes. This wasn’t unusual; Breakdown and Ratchet were early risers and often working before he woke up, but they were easy to identify from their footsteps or, in Ratchet’s case, muttering to himself. There was silence, aside from the usual background sounds of the camp, but something seemed to press against his spark as though it wanted to draw him closer to it. He almost didn’t dare look for a moment, but the soft footfall of someone large trying to move quietly drew his attention and he sat up, a little too quickly if the protests of his wound were anything to go by.

Optimus Prime looked up from the scrawled notes he’d been examining, his blue eyes bright in the dim light. Knock Out thought his spark stopped spinning for a moment as that gaze enveloped him, fought the overwhelming urge to get on the floor, on his knees, avert his eyes. Optimus didn’t demand any of those things, merely inclined his head in greeting. 

“Good morning Knock Out, I hope that I did not wake you?” He said, his voice rich with concern, and Knock Out blinked for a moment before being able to form a reply. It was such a normal question, not what he’d expect a Prime to concern himself with.   
“Oh… no, not at all m- sir.” He caught himself from slipping into old habits, certain that the Prime would not appreciate it, but not before he had lowered his eyes to the ground. “Er… Breakdown said that you wanted to talk to me?” 

“I do, yes.” The footsteps came closer, and Knock Out held himself still so he wouldn’t flinch. His spark seemed to be pressed up against his plating, as though the Prime was luring it towards him. “May I sit with you?”

He looked up to find Optimus stood almost within arm’s reach of him, his head tilted slightly as he waited for an answer. From him. A  _ Prime _ was asking  _ his _ permission. He sat stunned, then drew his legs toward himself under the blanket, leaving space for him, and nodded. Optimus sat, watching him with an inscrutable expression. Fondness, perhaps? Or just the overarching benevolence with which he seemed to view everyone? He didn’t dare think about why the Prime might be fond of him when they’d barely spoken. “You need not be worried. I only wanted to ask how you were settling in. Have you been made to feel welcome?”

“I… yes. Yes, everyone has been kind. I have learned a lot.”   
“I can tell. You learned our language very quickly.” Knock Out didn’t think he’d ever heard such pride directed at him before, and he ducked his head again.

“I am… not perfect. Still slow. Still lots more words to learn.”

“Nobody expects perfection immediately. You clearly understand what I am saying to you.”   
Knock Out nodded, and Optimus was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “Are you happy here?”

The question took him by surprise and he frowned, having to think about it. “I am not afraid. That is… good. Better than ever before.” But happiness was a low, low bar for him. Feeling safe, knowing people would respect his wishes, that was more than he’d ever known, and Optimus didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answer. He was frowning, but it didn’t seem like anger. Concern, perhaps? His spark squirmed in his chest, and he felt the need to elaborate. “I am… not used to it. To being able to trust people to listen to me when I say no. I still expect…” He fiddled with his slim fingers in his lap, “Never mind. I think I am happy. I want to stay. I want to learn.” He looked up finally, eyes wide with hope, and it felt like his spark wanted to escape from his chest when he spotted the tiniest smile on Optimus’ face. It didn’t make any sense for him to care so much for the Prime’s approval, but that little quirk of the mouth seemed to erase any lingering fear he still had of him.

“I am glad. We would be honoured to have you as a member of our tribe, as would any other tribe should you choose to move on from us in the future.”   
“I… can do that?”    
“Of course. Like any other member of the tribe, you could choose to take a mate from another tribe and go to live with them if you wanted. You are free.”

“Free…” Knock Out tried the word in his mouth, his fingers touching against his collar gently. It felt good to hear it said out loud, even if there was still evidence of his captivity that he could never erase.    
“Yes. As you should always have been.” Optimus nodded. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, but he gave his head a little shake and stood. “Thank you for speaking with me, Knock Out. We will be moving on soon, but I will arrange your initiation into the tribe for before that, if that is agreeable?”   
“Please. Starscream said that you were waiting for me to understand enough. I think I do?”   
“I think so as well. You belong among us, I believe, and it is time to recognise that officially.” He said, and that tiny smile returned for a fleeting moment before he turned and left, leaving Knock Out wondering what he had meant with that last statement. Had he understood that last word correctly- belong? It didn’t seem to mean the same thing as him belonging to his masters, and perhaps it was the new language taking some of the bite away, but it didn’t fill him with dread as it might once have. He felt safe, even in the awesome presence of the Prime, and he was so caught up in the wonder of that that he barely even noticed Breakdown enter the tent until he moved into his line of sight and made him jump.

“Oh, hey, sorry! You okay?” Breakdown asked, and Knock Out’s fans whirred in embarrassment.   
“Yes, fine. Surprised. I was… thinking.” Knock Out managed a smile at least. He found they came easily when he was talking to Breakdown, these days. “The Prime came to see me.”

“Yeah? I thought I saw him leaving. You can just call him Optimus if you want.”

“It doesn’t feel right yet. But he said I belong here. So maybe it will.” He said thoughtfully, and it surprised him all over again when Breakdown grinned at him.   
“He’s right. It feels… right, you being here. Like you were always meant to be… that sounds stupid, sorry.” The smile turned sheepish, and Knock Out couldn’t help returning it. 

“It’s good to hear. You’ll come to the… ceremony?” He asked, trying out the word.

“Of course. We’re friends, right?”   
“I… think so?” He’d never really had a friend before, he supposed, so perhaps that was what the sense of safety and the odd little flutters of his spark when Breakdown was around meant. “I want to be.” 

“Then yeah, we’re friends. I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiled at him, and Knock Out felt his plating heat as he smiled back. Why did it make him feel like this? He didn’t even feel uneasy when Breakdown came over and gestured to his wound. “Do you mind if I take a look? Ratchet says if it’s healing well inside he might be able to close it up, and then you don’t have to worry about the patch any more.”

“Okay.” He considered his options for a moment, then laid back down on his good side so that Breakdown could get to the patch. It still felt invasive and strange, having someone’s fingers poking around his internals, but he’d learned to hold still and mostly ignore it, except for when something fragile was touched and it made him wince.    
“Sorry.” Breakdown muttered the apology, withdrawing after a while. “It looks good. Your self-repair seems to have fixed all the wiring, there’s just one part that isn’t healing.”   
“Not healing?” He frowned, looking over his shoulder at him as his fans started whirring with worry.   
“Yeah. I can’t tell what part it is- it doesn't look like anything I've seen in anyone else- but the branch you fell on left a hole that hasn’t closed. Can I get Ratchet to take a look?”

“Okay.” He nodded, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep vent. He was proud of himself for only hesitating a little. “Just at that?”

“Just that. Unless there's something else you're worried about?”

“No. It's just that.”

He was saved from changing his mind by Ratchet's arrival, and a quick explanation from Breakdown was all it took to bring the old healer to his side, his brow ridges drawn down in concern. Knock Out shifted to give him better access to the hole in his frame, and nodded when he asked permission to look. Ratchet peered inside, still frowning and muttering too low and fast for Knock Out to keep up, then reached in and nudged something that sent a crackle of painful static discharge through his chest and made him flinch back.

“I'm sorry.” Ratchet said sincerely, withdrawing his hand and flexing his fingers to rid himself of the tingle the static had left. “I’ve discovered the problem. That isn't part of you. That's why it isn't healing along with the rest.”

“What?” Had he misunderstood? Something else inside him? His spark pulsed nervously. “What is it?”

“I don't know.” Ratchet wiped his hands on a rag and leaned over to peer inside again, his eyes lighting the hole. “But I think it needs to come out. Except it seems to be attached to some of your lines. It will be… difficult. Too painful and delicate to do with you online.”

“Then… you will put me in stasis?” He asked, pushing himself up a little to look at Ratchet, his eyes bright with worry. Whatever it was, he wanted it out. Who knew how it had gotten there, which master had done what to him without his knowledge or consent?

“Yes. And once it’s gone, I can close this hole and you won’t have to worry about any of this any more.”

“Then do it. I want it gone. Er… please?” He managed to remember his manners through the rising anxiety. This thing needed to go, now. 

Luckily, Ratchet seemed unfazed, and he nodded and patted his shoulder gently. “Lay down then, we can get this over with.” Knock Out complied, and he barely even noticed when Ratchet’s fingers moved to the base of his neck and tweaked something that sent him straight into stasis.


	13. Chapter 13

“Right.” Ratchet said, turning to get his tools in order while Breakdown hovered nearby, checking Knock Out’s vital signs with utmost care. “Let’s get this sorted out, can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. I suppose it was a mess in there, you’ve done well with it so far but you were right to call me in for this. Watch closely. One day, you’ll be doing this.” Ratchet added as he returned.   
  
Watching him at work was always fascinating, how those blunt fingers could be so delicate and precise, how he could stay so calm and collected with his hands up to the wrist in someone else’s internal workings. It hardly seemed to take him any time at all to carefully pry the damaged part away from several important fuel lines and extract it through the hole in Knock Out’s chassis, and he gave it only the most cursory glance before he set it aside and went to work closing up the hole with a piece of spare plating from the back room, thicker than Knock Out’s own since it was made for the warriors of the tribe. That took longer, of course, since he had to carefully bend and cut it to shape, but by the time he straightened up with a creak of old joints the only indication that Knock Out had ever been injured was the shiny silver area across his chest that would need repainting.

“That should do it. Any questions, Breakdown?” Ratchet asked as he ran his fingers over the new welds, checking that he had smoothed them out properly.   
“No sir, that was impressive. Just… what is that thing?” 

“That, my student, is what we’re going to find out while our patient rests.” He reset the little cable cluster that he had used to put Knock Out under, then turned his back to examine the mysterious device they had extracted from him. 

It was small, no bigger than Ratchet’s palm, and vaguely spherical with a few wires sticking out of the bottom of it. The most notable feature was the hole in the top where the branch had pierced it, shattering what appeared to be some kind of control circuit and punching a divot into the inside, which seemed to be packed with something white and odd-smelling. Ratchet frowned, carefully peeling back the shattered metal around the hole and sniffing at the contents, then his eyes widened in alarm and he set the thing down swiftly but with remarkable care and backed away, putting a hand out to push Breakdown with him as he did so.   
“What? What is it?”

“That’s a bomb.” Ratchet didn’t quite sound like he believed it, and Breakdown felt the older medic lean on him a little, his fans whirring in barely-concealed distress. “Someone put a bomb in his chest. That poor bot has been walking around with a lump of fragging  _ plastic explosive  _ pressed up against his spark for Primus-knows how long and I don’t think he even  _ knew. _ ” __ He gained enough fortitude to let go of Breakdown after a moment, and by the end of the sentence there was a low burn of fury in his voice usually reserved for people who got others hurt through their own stupidity. No, not even that. Breakdown had never heard him so angry. He was too stunned to respond right away, thinking of all the times he’d probably brushed against that thing by accident, the number of times both he and Knock Out could have been blown to smithereens by careless ignorance.

“What do we do?” He eventually managed to ask. “Should we tell him?”

Ratchet sighed heavily, running a hand over his face and never quite taking his eyes off the bomb on the table. “We have to. He obviously didn’t know about this or he would have told us. I hope. And there might be more somewhere else in his body, ones that haven’t had their detonators destroyed. Why would anyone  _ do  _ this?”   
“It must have been in case he escaped…” Breakdown realised, dawning horror making his fists clench so they wouldn’t shake. “Those, those  _ monsters  _ in the city, they would have blown him up if they couldn’t get him back!” 

Knock Out stirred behind him and he clamped down on the urge to sweep him into a hug that he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated. He wanted nothing more than to protect him, but there would have been no protecting him from this if it hadn’t been for a sheer stroke of dumb luck. Instead he turned slowly, reset his vocaliser to a lower volume. “Easy, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he said quietly, and Knock Out responded with a staticky mumble in his native tongue which Breakdown couldn’t understand. He was vaguely aware of Ratchet gingerly scooping up the bomb in his cupped hands and shuffling away with it held at arm’s length, but his focus was on Knock Out’s face as the smaller bot cracked an eye open, the light within dim and flickering at first until it came online properly.

He flinched away from the looming shape over him instinctively, then he managed to focus and realised it was Breakdown and relaxed. Breakdown felt his spark twist, hating to see Knock Out afraid of him again. It took him a moment to remember how to speak, mouth moving with no sound a couple of times before he managed it. “What was it?” He asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He didn’t flinch when Breakdown offered a steadying hand, which eased his worry a little. Except, now he had to try to explain this. He vented hard, trying to find the right words.

“Someone put a bomb in you.” He said, and his spark sank at Knock Out’s blank look. Explaining this through mime would be awkward but he tried, closing one fist and laying the other over the top, then pulling them apart and spreading his fingers rapidly to represent an explosion. Judging by the way Knock Out’s eyes widened and he leaned back sharply, his hand over his now-smooth side, he understood. He looked like he might purge his tanks, and Breakdown reached out hesitantly to steady him, leaving an inch or so for Knock Out to cross if he wanted the touch. He leaned into it ever so slightly, warm under his palm. “We took it out. It was broken, safe. You’re safe.” 

“How long had it been there?” Knock Out asked softly, his hand still pressed to the fresh welds. 

“We don’t know. Ratchet can probably find out.” He hoped so, anyway. The old healer had thousands of years of experience to draw on, Breakdown didn’t remember seeing anything he couldn’t handle. But then, he’d never seen him look quite as afraid as he had when he’d realised what the bomb was. 

He looked over his shoulder in time to see Ratchet re-emerge from the other room, grim-faced. “It’s been in place for some time.” He said, having apparently heard enough of their conversation. “I can’t tell exactly how long, but I would estimate at least half a century.”

“Oh.” Knock Out looked over at him, taking his hand away from his chest to support himself on Breakdown’s arm. “I… don’t think I’m much older than that. Could I have been built with it?”

“It wasn’t part of you, or your self-repair would have at least tried to fix it.” Ratchet’s frown deepened as he mulled over the problem. “Do you remember having any other surgery done?”

Knock Out frowned, looking down his body and away from Ratchet, and Breakdown felt his spark sink all over again as he drew his knees up closer to his body. “Some. I don’t know what all of it was for. Sometimes I woke up and everything seemed the same. Sometimes… not.”

“What did they do to you?” Ratchet asked, his eyes narrowing, and for a moment Breakdown thought he heard something behind the professional demeanour. Something pained. Knock Out didn’t respond right away, though he did glance up warily, almost as though he expected Ratchet to explode at whatever he said next.    
“Whatever they wanted. Whatever was useful to them. I’m lucky; I still think for myself.” He flinched away when Ratchet’s fist curled, but of course the old healer didn’t strike him. He would never harm a patient, Breakdown knew, it was the first rule he had taught him. Besides, it wasn’t Knock Out he was angry at.    
“Those monsters will never harm you again.” He said, his voice low and rough, and Knock Out leaned into Breakdown’s hand as he turned to gaze up at him, his eyes wide in wonder. “The tribe are your family now, we will protect you.”

“Family…” Knock Out repeated the word, clearly not understanding, and for a moment Ratchet looked like something important had just broken inside him. He quickly schooled his expression and waved Breakdown off before he could ask if he was okay. 

“Yes. We take care of each other. And that means I’m going to make you rest for a while, and then we’ll see about finding you somewhere more permanent to live now that you’re mostly fixed up. Alright?”   
“Alright. Thank you, Ratchet.” Knock Out still looked troubled, but he obeyed and let Breakdown guide him back down onto the berth, laying on his good side with his arm tucked carefully over the welds. Breakdown had to resist the urge to pat his shoulder as they parted; he looked so fragile like that and leaving him felt unsafe, but what would hurt him in the middle of the camp? 

Ratchet had already left the tent by the time he caught up to him, and he had to jog and call the old healer’s name to get his attention. “Ratchet! Are you… okay? You seemed pretty upset back there.”   
“I’m fine, Breakdown. I need to tell Optimus about this development. It’s something to look out for if we encounter any other escaped slaves from the cities.” he said, rubbing the chevron on his forehead and closing his eyes for a moment. Processor ache, clearly. Breakdown could relate. But if anyone could make Ratchet feel better, it would be his mate, so he nodded and added a respectful gesture for good measure.    
“I’ll let you go. He’s gonna be fine, we got rid of it.”   
“Good to see you managed to pick up some bedside manner from me, sparkling. Off you go.” Ratchet added with a small, tired smile, then turned to head for the tent he shared with the tribe’s leader. Breakdown watched him go, his own optics dim with worry, but Bulkhead’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as the warrior clapped him on the shoulder and promptly dragged him off to come patrol with him. He almost managed to convince himself that he wasn’t worried about Knock Out as he stumbled off after him, token protests drifting behind him. Knock Out would be fine, there was nowhere safer in the world than this camp. He was sure.


	14. Chapter 14

Knock Out was not fine. The ache in his side from the fresh welds barely registered, but his mind raced and stole any prospect of recharging from him. He was safe, he tried to remind himself, but it was hard to think about that when he knew that at any moment, any vindictive master could have ended his life with the press of a button. And now, that danger was gone. They really couldn’t hurt him here now. It was overwhelming, and he curled his legs up closer to his chest and buried his head under his forearm, the door plate shielding him from the world and stifling a staticky sob. It was all too much, all the stress of the last few weeks, and longer, released in a single moment now that he was completely alone for once.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, his shoulders shaking as he cried it out, but he was exhausted by the end. Finally recharge took him, and he could be grateful for that at least.

A couple of days passed, and Ratchet declared him fit enough to leave the healers’ tent, should he so desire. He was, the old healer told him, welcome to come and share with himself and Optimus, but despite the generosity of that offer and the odd way his spark seemed to shift in his chest towards Ratchet, Knock Out couldn’t bring himself to accept. The Prime was kind, yes, but his presence was far too overwhelming to share his space. He was left to think on it, and when Starscream wandered by later in the day he offered him a place too, but did it so begrudgingly that Knock Out suspected he’d been put up to it. As nice as it would be living with someone who understood him perfectly, Knock Out hoped he’d get a better offer and merely thanked him and said he’d think about it. 

He made his way outside, lost in thought, and found himself wandering near the edge of the camp to gaze out over the plains. Now he was healed, he thought, he’d have to find a way to make a life out here. He couldn’t just be a burden on the tribe forever, but what skills did he even have other than laying back and letting others have their way with him? His plating crawled at the very thought of that, and he ignored the futile click of his panels trying to close. Some of the crafts he’d seen had seemed interesting, and then there was the intricate, fascinating work that Ratchet and Breakdown did. But surely, the crotchety old healer had enough with just one apprentice to teach, he surely wouldn’t take another…

“Knock Out!” The sudden call of his name made him jump, and he turned to see Breakdown stop a reasonable distance away, well out of his personal space. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”   
He nodded, relaxing a bit and letting his plating flatten back down from its startled state. “Something wrong?”   
“No, it’s fine, I just…” He averted his eyes, one hand fiddling with the seams at the other wrist. “I wondered if you had a place to stay yet? Has anyone offered their tent?”   
  


He suspected he knew where this was going, and when he was silent for a while Breakdown glanced up, his eyes bright and just a little anxious. “I understand, if you don’t want to, or if you have a better offer. But I have plenty of space and you know me, so I thought I would ask.”   
“No, I… I would like that.” He managed a smile, and found that he meant it. “You’re… safe. Thank you.” 

“Yeah? Great! I mean, I’m happy that you trust me so much.” Breakdown beamed at him, and Knock Out felt his spark sputter a little and his own smile widen in response. “Do you want to come tonight? Or… whenever you want. There’s no rush.”

Poor Breakdown just seemed so eager, and it was easy to nod and agree that yes, he would come and stay the night with him. It was only when it got to the evening, when he was actually standing outside Breakdown’s tent with the cool blue glow of a crystal lamp seeping through the mesh that he realised that maybe this was a mistake. He could see the bigger bot moving around inside, the shadow of his bulk and the bright orange spots of biolights, and he was momentarily overwhelmed by the certainty that something would have changed, that the bot who had refused to touch him because he was scared would have no problems once they were alone.

Before he could change his mind, Breakdown’s silhouette made its way to the tent flap and his head poked out, face lighting up when he spotted Knock Out. “Hey! You uh, wanna come in? I mean, if you’re gonna live here you can come and go as you please, obviously.”

“Please.” He nodded, and Breakdown backed up to let him follow inside.

The soft blue light suffused the inside of the tent, gleaming off shiny animal hide blankets and soft pillows piled on one corner, and an array of tools and weapons dangling along the back wall. The inside was painted, mostly in black and white, but showed scenes of hunts and battles and even daily life in the tribe, picked out in light and shadow on the brassy fabric. The ceiling was tall enough for Breakdown to stand and move around comfortably, so to Knock Out it was almost airy. He eyed the pile of bedding, uncomfortably aware of Breakdown looming behind him, and jumped when the bigger bot cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I thought you could have one side, and I could keep the other?” He said, and Knock Out turned to see him gesture to a cleared area on the opposite side to the pile. A few big cushions had already been laid out there, about the right size for him to recharge on comfortably, along with a throw that seemed to be made of thin foil pieces of varying tones welded together at the edges. Leaves, perhaps? “It should be comfortable, but if you need more stuff I can lend you mine until you can get more made. And we can hang up a blanket, so you have some privacy if you want”   
He didn’t reply right away, just went over and sat down on the cushions, feeling them give and bounce a little under his weight as though filled with air rather than anything solid. “I think this will be good.” He said, looking up at Breakdown with a smile. He was careful to keep his knees together, trying to disguise nerves as demure politeness. Breakdown had gone to so much effort to make him comfortable, and he’d never asked him for anything in return before, but what if things were different now...? “Thank you. I don’t know how to return your kindness.”   
“You don’t have to. You’re part of the tribe, it’s my job to take care of you. And I like you.”

“Oh…”

Knock Out looked down at his knees as it sunk in that Breakdown really meant it, hands fiddling in his lap. The big bot crouched, keeping his distance but peering at him with a worried little frown. Knock Out shook his head, tried to wave him off.   
“Sorry. Thank you for all this. I will need something to do, right? To help the tribe?” Change of subject seemed like a good idea, but Breakdown didn’t get up and instead sat down heavily and crossed his legs, apparently totally comfortable on the floor.   
“You will. Nobody will expect much of you until after your initiation, but if you like I can take you on a patrol or a gathering trip, and you can try things until you find something you like?”    
“Alright. I want to try as much as I can, now I'm well.” or… better, at least. There were still some things he was wondering if he should mention to Ratchet. “the initiation will be soon?”

“Very, yes. We need to prepare, gather more fuel for the celebration, but by next week you’ll be a member of the tribe, if you still want to?”

“I do. This is the best place I’ve ever been. And I’d like to go on a trip with you, if that’s alright? I want to learn and it’s been so long since I’ve been able to drive.”

“Then we’ll do that. Tomorrow?”   
“Tomorrow.” He agreed. Provided, of course, that nothing happened tonight. This was a test, he told himself, of whether Breakdown was truly as trustworthy as he seemed. “I think I need to rest, is that alright?”   
“Of course. This is your place now.” Breakdown looked faintly puzzled that he’d even felt the need to ask, but the last thing Knock Out wanted was to be rude to his new tentmate. He settled down among the pillows, more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life, and though he’d expected to lie awake expecting an attack, he was offline before he even realised it. 


	15. Chapter 15

Breakdown awoke filled with excitement the next morning, rolling out of his berth and straight onto his feet with remarkable grace for such a massive bot. It was only when he had gotten fully upright that he realised it wasn’t even dawn yet, and his excitement was a bit premature. Luckily, Knock Out still seemed to be offline, only the top of his crest poking out from under the blanket. He couldn’t help but watch him for a few moments, then quietly let himself out of the tent into the early morning dimness, where the faintest hint of light was just becoming visible beyond the camp.

He busied himself with a few early chores in the healers’ tent, cleaning and taking stock of the herbs and materials they currently had, making an internal list of what was running low or gone entirely. There was more than he’d like, but Ratchet hadn’t complained so far so he supposed the old bot hadn’t needed some of these things in a while. Aside from Knock Out, there hadn’t been many of the tribe in need of their services recently, for which he was grateful. Only a few minor accidents within the tribe, the odd courtship fight that had gotten a little too rough. 

By the time he emerged the sun had risen, the camp was coming awake and he was able to catch a few people and ask them to come with him. Arcee agreed immediately, a couple of the younger bots jumped on the chance, and though Starscream grumbled something about dust storms he agreed when he found out that Knock Out was coming along. Breakdown did his best to hide the sudden surge of suspicion that welled up at that, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from narrowing at the Vosian, who drew himself up to his full height and flared his wings subtly. “What?”   
“Nothing, I’ll be glad to have your keen eyes.” he replied, his voice as carefully even as he could make it. 

“Of course you will.” He waved him off and turned away, wings still held high as he strode off on his long legs, and Breakdown blinked a couple of times as he realised how sudden that had been. He had no reason to distrust Starscream, for all the Seeker was slippery and hard to read. And if he was interested in Knock Out, that was none of his business. He had no claim on him. No matter how beautiful the former slave was, or that he was living in his tent, Breakdown had no claim on him.

He reminded himself sharply of that as he returned to his own tent, only to find it empty. Knock Out’s berth had been carefully tidied, while his own remained rumpled with several pillows flung several feet from the main pile. He sighed softly and bent down to start picking up after himself, only to hear a quiet, quickly aborted engine growl from directly behind him. 

When he straightened up and looked over his shoulder, he spotted Knock Out standing in the doorway, a container of energon in each hand and an expression of absolute mortification on his face. He felt his own plating heat, and he opened his mouth and quickly closed it again before deciding that he was  _ not _ going to ask. “Oh, hey. Wondered where you’d gone.”   
“I went to get fuel. I brought you some.” Knock Out mumbled, his eyes down, and for a moment Breakdown was worried he’d said something wrong, but he took the offered container anyway.   
“Oh, thanks!” He smiled at him, heard a faint whirr of fans that quickly died away. “I didn’t eat yet. Are you ready to go out?”   
“I just need to eat, that’s all, then yes.”

“Same here. Starscream’s coming, and Arcee and Hot Rod and Bumblebee, but I don’t know if you met them yet. They’re gonna meet us by Optimus’ tent in about... half an hour?” He sat down to drink the energon, and was relieved when Knock Out copied him. He always knelt rather than sitting cross-legged as most of the tribe did, but Breakdown just assumed that was how they did it in the cities. It didn’t look very comfortable to him, but Knock Out didn’t seem to have any issue staying like that. They drank in silence for a little while, before something occurred to Breakdown.   
“Oh, I should get your comm frequency before we go, so we can stay in contact while we’re driving. I mean, if you have one?”    
Knock Out blinked, pausing with his energon halfway to his mouth. “I didn’t know  _ you  _ had one? I do, I think. But I was never really allowed to use it, outside of my master calling for me.” He shifted uncomfortably at the mention, and Breakdown felt a pulse of anger directed towards the piece of slag who’d dared to claim he owned Knock Out. He kept it to himself though, as Knock Out gave him the frequency and he pinged him back with his own. It all seemed to work fine at least, and soon enough they had finished their fuel and risen to leave.

Arcee was waiting for them when they arrived, standing with her arms folded as she watched a silvery shape circle above. As they approached it swooped and resolved itself into a jet, which transformed with a flourish and landed alongside them, and Starscream drew himself up, dusted off his shining frame and smiled. “It’s good to see you joining in, Knock Out. I don’t think I’ve seen your alt mode yet? You look like something fast.”   
  
The purr in the jet’s voice made Breakdown want to smack him, but he hid it when Knock Out smiled back, puffing up a little with pride. “I am fast. I haven’t been able to transform since I was injured. I’m hoping it will still work…” His smile faltered a little, a worried frown flickering across his face before Breakdown reset his vocaliser, resisting the urge to pat him to get his attention.   
“Ratchet’s a good healer, you shouldn’t have any problems.” he said, “But if you do it’s okay, we can fix it.”

“Should I try before the others get here?”   
“It can’t hurt. They probably lost track of time, knowing them.” Breakdown stepped back, giving Knock Out a little space should he need it. He watched him invent slowly, focusing, then his plating flared and he folded smoothly and elegantly down into his alt.   
  
He felt his vents catch. Even after the battering he’d taken, even with the silver of the new plate and the scrapes up his side stark against the crimson, Knock Out’s alt was sleek and shiny, almost too low to the ground to be practical but all smooth lines and curves. Starscream was right. He did look fast, and he caught himself wanting to run his fingers over those contours before he could abruptly dismiss the thought. Absolutely not allowed. He took a moment to collect himself before he dared speak, in case something inappropriate came out. “How does it feel?”   
  
“Good. Really good.” Knock Out replied with a flash of his headlights and a little wiggle of his front wheels, his engine purring beautifully as he revved it experimentally a couple of times, then rolled forward and circled around Breakdown’s legs, getting faster with each lap until he slid on a corner and popped back up into root, skidding sideways on his feet to a dramatic stop.    
“Heh, flair for the dramatic, wouldn’t expect that from you.” Arcee remarked with a smile, and Knock Out just shrugged. Breakdown was about to reply when a yell from behind him made him turn.   
“That was so cool!” Two smaller bots came jogging up, both grinning broadly though one had his mouth hidden behind a mask and showed it only in large, bright eyes. They slowed as they drew level with Breakdown, looking up at him. “Sorry we’re late, we forgot to eat.”   
“I did wonder.” He sighed, but it was a fond sort of sigh. The tribe’s youngest troublemakers had a special place in the healers’ sparks, even if Ratchet grumbled about them constantly. “Knock Out, have you met Hot Rod and Bumblebee?” he asked, gesturing to each in turn. Hot Rod turned that winning grin of his on Knock Out, while Bumblebee gave a less exuberant wave.   
“I… think I’ve seen them?” Knock Out replied, slipping into a more neutral pose that would seem natural if he wasn’t fidgeting where he stood.   
“They’re alright.” He shrugged, grinning when Hot Rod made an indignant noise. “Young and inexperienced, but they’re learning too. I thought it’d be good for all of you to learn together, especially since we won’t be going too far today.”    
  
“Good plan! Are we going or what?” Arcee called, having already started wandering off towards the edge of the cluster of tents. Starscream rolled his eyes at her, and Breakdown sighed.    
“Yeah, of course. Let’s go!” He transformed and heard the others follow suit as Starscream’s engines roared and he took off, leaving them all in the dust. Frag that showoff, he thought uncharitably as Starscream shot off into the distance to scout ahead. Arcee shook her head with a loud huff and streaked off after him, the two-wheeler kicking up even more dust as the bigger vehicles followed after her.

Breakdown waited until they got past the tents before he reached out across his comms to the youngsters. 

**_‘Alright, you know the rules. Remind me?’_ **

He couldn’t hear Hot Rod sigh over the growl of his engine, but he all but felt it in the words   
**_‘Stay close, and if we see a Predacon or another tribe we tell you straight away and don’t go running off on our own’_ **

**_‘Again’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Shut up Bee! One time!’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘And you broke your arm, and Ratchet had to sort it out.’_ ** Breakdown reminded him, which shut him up.  ****_‘Besides, I need you two to set a good example for Knock Out, alright? He doesn’t know what to do out here.’_

Assent came from both of them, and he adjusted a wing mirror to see how their newest member was keeping up. Knock Out had found himself in between the two youngsters behind him, and was matching pace with all of them, but then that wasn’t surprising. He was so sleek, so fast by design, and Breakdown was boxy and meant for launching himself over hills and rough terrain out here. Not quickly, but he could go forever. He was a little worried that Knock Out’s low undercarriage might cause issues, but they would see how it went. He switched frequencies as they crested a hill and he spotted Starscream circling a little way off.   
  
**_‘How are you holding up? You seem to be keeping up pretty well,’_ ** he sent to Knock Out, adjusting course slightly.   
**_‘It’s harder than I was used to. The city roads are much smoother, but it’s not too bad. My paint is going to be wrecked though.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘It’s okay, I can probably fix it when we get back. You see Starscream over the rise there?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Yes?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘He’s found something, probably energon crystals. We can grab those and keep an eye out for the plants Ratchet wanted on the way there.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Can’t you comm him and find out?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** Breakdown hesitated, veering around a tree and swaying on his suspension with the movement. Innocent enough question, but Starscream would kill him for answering it.   
**_‘He’s out of range.’_ ** he said instead, which was technically true anyway.  **_‘Don’t worry, he’s good at getting his point across. Keep an eye on the ground as you follow, these hills have a lot of broken trees and things that can really damage your undercarriage if you drive over them too fast.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** He heard Knock Out slow slightly behind him, dropping back behind the two youngsters as his engine revved down a little. He slowed too, just enough that Knock Out wouldn’t be left behind, and the two youngsters took that as permission to shoot ahead down the hill. Breakdown sighed, but he supposed that as long as they were in sight they couldn’t get themselves in too much trouble. Sure enough, he could see a faint smear of bright blue among the steely greys and various browns of the plains, and Starscream’s grey form circling above. As Hot Rod, pulling ahead, reached the bottom of the hill and started towards it the Seeker started a spiralling descent, coming down to land by the crystals. Breakdown commed Knock Out again as they reached the bottom of the hill.   
**_‘You can go a little faster out here if you want, the ground is good and flat and you should be able to see any obstacles well ahead. I bet you’re itching to see how fast you can go, right?’_ ** he asked, and he heard a low rev from behind him, deep for such a small bot as Knock Out. He was powerful, clearly, and it made Breakdown’s spark spin a little faster.   
**_‘If it would be alright?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘It’ll be fine, yeah. You see where we’re going? Where Scream landed? Just head towards that and be careful.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘What about you?’_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_‘It’s okay, I’m used to being slow, I’ll catch up and watch your back.’_ He would have smiled if his face had been visible. 

His only warning was the roar of an engine and then Knock Out shot past him, a streak of red and gold, and he thought he heard a whoop of delight before it was snatched away on the wind, and he laughed to himself as he watched him. He really was fast; fast enough that he was closing on Bumblebee, who seemed to notice and gunned his engine to go faster. Though he had no hope in the Pit of catching them all, Breakdown couldn’t resist being caught up in the energy and pushing his own faster, his heavy frame bouncing on its springs as he accelerated.

By the time he arrived at the rendezvous point he was starting to overheat a bit, and he slammed on the brakes and came sliding to a halt in a cloud of dust. Knock Out had already transformed and was sat on a wind-bent tree, his fans running at double speed as Hot Rod chatted excitedly at him and Bee looked up at them both from his spot on the ground. The grin on the city-bot’s face seemed to light up the surroundings and Breakdown had to transform to cover the sound of his engine trying to rev up again. It was utterly unfair for him to be so beautiful.   
  
“Nice of you all to join me.” Starscream remarked as he stalked over from where he’d been inspecting a crystal, one hand waving to ward off the dust they’d kicked up. “This seems like more of a haul than we can take back on our own, so I suggest we mark it and send another team.” 

Breakdown looked over the stand of crystals, gleaming blue in the sun and seeming to glow with their own inner light. He could never quite get over how pretty energon crystals were, and these were particularly impressive. Some of them were taller than him, and most were thicker around than Starscream was, not that that was difficult. There were at least a dozen clusters here; enough to feed the tribe for a week or more once they were processed properly, and way more than three speedsters, a jet, a two-wheeler and one single heavy vehicle could get back by themselves. They’d need trailers and more hands to harvest the crystals besides.

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Did you see any of Ratchet’s herbs around, by any chance? Or Arcee?”   
“She went off that way, I think.” He said, pointing, then waved him off. “As for herbs, you’d have a better eye than me. There’s some pink flowers near the crystals that I thought I recognised, but you’d know better of course. I would think my part in this is done?”

Breakdown sighed, eyeing him. “Think you can manage to keep guard while we look around? Ratchet needs those herbs.”

Starscream’s returning sigh was far more melodramatic, accompanied by a roll of his eyes and a downward flick of his wings. “I suppose.” He said, then stepped away with a saunter and took off to circle above. Breakdown watched him climb, then took his attention back towards the three grounders still with him.   
  
“You three okay? Hope you didn’t tire yourself out racing, I can’t tow you all back.” He said with a smile. Knock Out seemed to have recovered, his ventilations back to normal, and his grin reduced to a mere quirk of the lips as he calmed down. He nodded along with the two youngsters though.   
“He’s really fragging fast!” Hot Rod declared. “Not as fast as me of course, but maybe he’ll get faster once he’s used to the terrain.”   
“Language, Roddy.”   
“Oh, yeah, fr- damn.”    
“Better. Come on, spread out and help me look for plants. Pink flowers, or the tall spiky ones with the energon veins through the leaves, those are what we need most. Comm me if you find anything, but stay in sight.”   
  
All three of them nodded and took off in different directions, Knock Out taking his cues from the other two, and Breakdown only realised he’d been watching him when he realised he’d been frowning at all the scratches down the city-bot’s back. Wear and tear from the sharp grasses and rough ground that wouldn’t even show up on a wildlander was far more obvious on his gleaming finish, and he had to shake himself out of his reverie and very deliberately turn his back on Knock Out to stop his train of thought from derailing into how nice it would be to buff out those scratches back in their tent.

Twenty minutes later he had a nice selection of herbs stashed in his subspace, and Hot Rod had called him over to check out a plant no less than fifteen times. Only one of them had been correct, but he had to admire the little bot’s enthusiasm. Bee was a lot better at this already, more patient, and Breakdown suspected he’d be an excellent scout with time. Knock Out, however, had called him over once and when Breakdown had confirmed he’d found the right thing, he’d smiled and asked to see what the rest of the herbs looked like. Breakdown had shown him, he’d looked at them for a few moments with a deep, thoughtful frown, and then taken off again. 

Now, as he called them together to see how much they’d gathered, he watched with fascination as Knock Out pulled several neat bunches of herbs from his subspace, tied together with strands of grass exactly as Breakdown had done his own. He shifted from foot to foot as Breakdown looked them over, and when he looked up and grinned at him he couldn’t seem to help but smile back. “Nicely done, you remembered what they all looked like just from one look?” Breakdown asked, and Knock Out tipped his head and looked away.   
“Well… yes. There were only a few, is it difficult?”   
“Hot Rod’s been doing this for months and he still gets scrapweed and potassium grass mixed up.” Breakdown said, smiling at an indignant noise from Hot Rod.   
“They look the same!”   
“One of them’s grey and the other is usually a little bit on fire.”   
“Well… yeah, but lots of things can be on fire.” Hot Rod argued, hands on his hips, and Breakdown was startled by a little chuckle from Knock Out. It was, quite possibly, the loveliest sound he’d ever heard. He blinked out of that reverie when Hot Rod grumbled something unflattering at him.   
“Call me that again and I’ll tell Firestar.”   
“Urgh, alright, fine. Where next?”    
“Try contacting Arcee, she might be in range. Hopefully…” It was a little strange that she hadn’t commed them yet, and he watched Hot Rod’s face as he obeyed, the irritated pout turning into a frown.   
“She’s not answering…” Hot Rod glanced up at Breakdown, concerned, and he took a careful vent as he considered the options. “We’ll head towards the direction she was going last and keep trying. She does this, likes her space, and she’s an experienced scout.” He explained with a look to Knock Out. He was shuffling, rolling one of the wheels in his foot against the ground nervously, and it left him wanting to reassure. “It’s fine. She’s an amazing tracker, she’ll find us before we find her. We’ll just enjoy the drive out here until she does.”

The others all nodded uncertainly, but once Breakdown had marked the spot for the crystals and transformed, they all followed him out onto the plains. There was some gratification in the fact that they trusted his lead, but he had to admit he was a little worried about Arcee. He kept reaching out over the comms to her, but got only silence in return for quite some time, until finally he spotted a cloud of dust in the distance and vented a sigh of relief.   
**_‘Arcee?’_ **

**_‘Cover! Get to cover!’_ **

He pulled up and the other three shot past him before spinning around as the dustcloud skidded into the lee of a nearby rock.    
**_‘What is it, what’s wrong?’_ ** Hot Rod demanded, his front wheels twitching as Breakdown turned and gunned his engine back towards a stand of coppery trees they had just passed.   
**_‘Don’t know, but Arcee says hide. Where’s Starscream?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Can’t see him! Oh Primus...’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘We’ll be fine.’_ ** The trees were big enough to cover them, and for a moment Breakdown almost believed his own words as they drew into their shade, but a loud, metallic roar cut through the silence and shattered any surety of that. He heard Knock Out cut his engine and roll closer, hunkered down on his wheels.   
**_‘What is it?’_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_‘Predacon. Hold still and it’ll pass us by.’_

The last part was broadcast to the other two, and their engines cut as well. Breakdown only wished he could believe it too. Another roar sounded, and the great flapping of huge, strange wings reached Breakdown’s audials. Through the trees he could see the creature circling, its long tail arching behind it as it banked towards them. He thought his fuel pump stopped when it came down on top of Arcee’s rock, its great claws digging in as it surveyed the land around it. From his vantage point he couldn’t see her, only the massive, toothy head of the Predacon. It could swallow her in one bite…

But Arcee was their best scout for a reason, and the beast didn’t notice her. Instead, it settled down on the rock and ruffled its wings, then curled its tail around itself, tucked its head under a wing and seemed to doze off. None of the grounders dared to move, and there was still no sign of their companion, until a faint crackle came over Breakdown’s comm. 

**_‘Breakdown, what’s it doing, I can’t see.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Oh thank Primus, Arcee. It’s… recharging, I think. It hasn’t moved for a few minutes.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Is everyone okay, are they with you?’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘All but Starscream.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Tch, typical. Okay, I saw where you went, I’ll come meet you.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Be careful.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘Duh.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** She cut the connection, and he allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief. He’d been so focused he hadn’t heard the faint rattling coming from next to him, and he shifted his mirror to look and realised with a start that Knock Out was shaking on his wheels, mirrors tucked right in and his suspension sunk as low as it would go. He rolled back a bit, allowing his engine to kick back on with as quiet a rumble as he could manage. The reaction was remarkably upsetting; he’d never seen someone flinch in alt before.   
**_‘It’s okay. It’s recharging, it’s not going to hurt us.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘That was the thing that attacked the transport…’_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_‘It’s not the same one, but… yeah. That was a Predacon.’_

**_‘There’s more than one?!’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_‘...Yeah.’_ ** He paused a moment, trying to think how to soothe him. **_‘It’s okay, what happened to you was unusual, they usually don’t bother with us unless they’re protecting a nest. We’ll just wait for Arcee and then head back to the camp. She’s on her way.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** Breakdown wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone in vehicle mode look quite so skeptical, but Knock Out went quiet as Bumblebee gently rolled up next to him, providing a barrier from the other side. The next few minutes were tense silence, all of them listening out for any more roars or the flap of wings, but there was nothing and the Predacon seemed to be deep in its recharge cycle on the rock. There was, however, no sign of Arcee. Not a flash of blue, not a dust cloud, nothing.

The rumble of a jet engine behind him caught Breakdown’s attention and he transformed abruptly to wave Starscream down, praying he’d notice before he got too close to the beast. Fortunately he had keen eyes, and either spotted it or them early enough to cut his engines and glide down on the other side of the trees before marching in to join them. “What is that  _ thing _ doing here?” he demanded in a hissing whisper. Or at least, as close to a whisper as he ever got.   
“We don’t know,” Breakdown muttered back, “that’s for later. Soon as Arcee gets here we’re going straight back to camp and telling Optimus.” 

**_‘Make that now, big guy.’_ ** Arcee’s comm crackled through and Breakdown looked back towards the rock to see her standing almost right behind him, smiling.   
“How the frag do you do that?” He whispered, and heard Hot Rod snicker. Of course, he’d seen her coming and hadn’t said anything. Brat. At least it lightened the mood a little, and he rolled his eyes as he transformed down.  **_‘Never mind, let’s go.’_ **

They rolled as quietly as they could out the other side of the trees, but with that barrier between them and the Predacon all Breakdown could think of was getting as far away from it as possible as quickly as possible, and apparently the speedsters agreed. They all left him in the dust, the two youngsters keeping pace with Arcee, except for Knock Out who seemed determined to stay as close to him as he could. Maybe he just felt safer with the biggest bot on the team for protection, or he preferred the company he knew, it was hard to say, but Breakdown wasn’t complaining and he didn’t ask. He just sent him a quiet  **_‘you okay?’_ ** over their comms, and drove quietly for the several minutes it took before Knock Out replied.   
**_‘How do you do that? How were you not scared?’_ **

**_‘I was. It’s just…’_ ** He took a moment to consider his answer, and decided to go with the truth. Knock Out deserved to know.  **_‘There are a lot of things out here that can kill you, or want to kill you. You learn to function when you’re scared or hurt, and you do what you need to do to survive. Or protect the people you care about’_ **

**_‘Were you scared when you fought the one that attacked me?’_ **

**_‘Yeah. But it’s easier to push past it when you’re surrounded by people you trust. And we couldn’t just leave you to die. It’s not our way.’_ **

**_‘Did anyone get hurt? I just realised I never found out.’_ **

**_‘We got lucky. And even if someone had, it wouldn’t be your fault. You weren’t exactly in a position to help.’_ **

Knock Out sped up for a moment, drawing level with Breakdown, and there was a strange determination to his next comm.  **_‘I’ll make up for it. I don’t think I can fight, but I won’t be a burden on the tribe.’_ **

Breakdown felt himself smile, oddly proud.  **_‘Nobody’s a burden. But… who knows, maybe you can learn. We’ll find out. But we’re almost home, so not today.’_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** The others were waiting when they rolled into the camp, and apparently they’d taken long enough that someone had gone and gotten Optimus so that Arcee could explain what she’d seen. The youngsters were dismissed once Breakdown had checked they were okay and made them both promise not to leave the camp alone, and he added his own contributions to the report. Knock Out hung back nearby, waiting for him, and seemed to be distractedly picking at his now scratched and dinged paintwork every time Breakdown looked at him. Apparently whatever paint they used in the city wasn’t up to the rough driving of the plains, and once Optimus had heard enough and they were allowed to go about their day he approached him, careful not to startle him.

“Now your wound’s fixed I could give you a repaint if you want? Something that’ll hold up out here?” he offered, careful to look at his face and not up and down his frame. No need to be rude.   
“It looks that bad?” Knock Out pulled a face, looking down at himself. “I hoped nobody would notice.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Nobody would think twice of you being all scratched, it’s pretty normal, but you seem to care so… I thought I’d offer.” He shrugged, and his spark rose a little in his chest when Knock Out smiled.   
“That sounds good actually, yes. Please. If you’re not busy.”   
Breakdown grinned in return. “Great! Um… you go get us some fuel and I’ll sort out paints? I don’t think I can get gold that will stay on more than a couple of days but red isn’t a problem.”   
“That’s fine! Thank you, yes, I’ll do that.” He darted off with renewed enthusiasm, and Breakdown watched him go for a moment before he shook himself out of it and headed back towards his tent. A quiet afternoon of painting sounded like just what they both needed after the morning’s stress.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a smut chapter, but definitely gets a little bit suggestive.

Knock Out felt like he was humming with anticipation when he returned to the tent, container of energon in each hand and a smile just unable to leave his face. Between his injury and the wear and tear of living out on the plains he’d been starting to look quite dull, and he hadn’t realised quite how much it bothered him until Breakdown had asked him if he wanted a new coat of paint. Maybe it was the voices of his masters in his head, chastising him a hundred times for risking his finish, but the idea of being pristine at least for a day or two was reassuring.

He poked his head in to find Breakdown kneeling on the floor surrounded by jars of colourful powders and liquids, looking thoughtful. He glanced up and smiled when Knock Out entered, and reached up to take the offered fuel from him. “Thanks. I was just trying to figure out what to mix to get your colour. It’s so… intense.” He sipped, then set the container aside as Knock Out sat down to drink his own and watch him pick through jars and mix the pigments in a bowl. The scouting trip had been draining, and his engine wasn’t the most efficient. “Hmm… aluminium, cinnabar… yeah, cadmium selenide… there. What do you think?” 

Knock Out leaned over as Breakdown tilted the bowl to show him the deep, shimmering red that he’d made. Not a perfect match to his old paint, a little deeper red, but…  
“It’s beautiful, I love it.”   
“Great!” Breakdown beamed at him and set the bowl aside. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like some detailing as well, maybe some white to match your face? I can just put back the stripes you’ve got now or go for something more dramatic? I don’t have any gold that will stay, or I’d redo all the gold details...” 

He thought about it for a moment, and he felt his fans whirr for a moment when he realised that he could have anything he wanted, he was no longer at the whim of a master or their tacky taste. “Don’t worry about the gold, but.... Can you do flames? Maybe along the doors on my alt?” He tapped a fingertip against the door on his arm hopefully, and felt himself grin when Breakdown nodded.   
“That’s awesome, I can definitely do that! Red first though. Uhh… stand here? I’m going to have to sand you a bit and then do the paint, there’s going to be a lot of touching, is that okay?”

“I can manage. I’ve had paintjobs before.” It had never been a particularly pleasant experience, but he hoped it would be better when the hands rubbing him down and painting him were familiar ones. 

Breakdown didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t question the assertion as Knock Out got to his feet, just moved to grab his sandpaper and dragged himself up with a grunt of effort, the paint moved to a safe distance and covered so it wouldn’t be knocked over. He was very close and with his height and his bulk he loomed a little, but if Knock Out closed his eyes he could ignore that and stay relaxed. At least the large hand on his chestplate was familiar, and the rough grit of the sandpaper was mildly itchy compared to the almost-burn of the sanders he’d experienced before. The slow circles rubbed across his plating almost seemed pleasant as he became accustomed to it, and it was obvious that Breakdown was being careful to only scratch the surface, not scrape the metal beneath too much.

He continued, running along his arms and over the doors, big blunt fingers holding his forearm steady with such care, and Knock Out felt his plating shiver as they brushed against it every time Breakdown adjusted his hold. The air in the tent seemed strangely warm, more than could be accounted for just by the presence of another bot, but he managed to ignore it as Breakdown worked around to his back.

A muffled clunk from behind him made his eyes snap open, and he looked around to see Breakdown knelt on the floor looking up at him. “Sorry, it’s easier to reach your legs like this, is it okay?”   
“It’s fine.” He said, not mentioning the strange flush of heat in his chest. Were his fans not working properly? Maybe the dust from the sanding? Had to be. 

It had to have affected Breakdown too, he thought, because his hand on the outside of his knee felt far too warm, and the sandpaper over the outside of his leg seemed to leave a tingle of static that made him clench his thighs together a little and his fans whirr.   
“You okay?” Breakdown’s voice got his attention as his hand moved away, leaving his plating cold, and he just managed to nod, not quite trusting his voice. What the frag was wrong with him?! “I’m almost done. I’ll leave the white parts of your legs alone, promise.” 

He waited for another nod, and true to his word the other leg was sanded down quickly. “I’m just gonna blow the dust off, close your vents?” Breakdown suggested, and Knock Out clamped them shut just as a gust of hot air hit the back of his legs and aft. It sent a rush of warmth straight through his array, and he managed to deactivate his vocaliser just in time to cut off a burst of static. Mercifully, Breakdown didn’t seem to notice, and another puff caught him in the back, sending a cloud of dust up into his vision harmlessly. Breakdown shuffled around in front of him and cleaned off his chest with a final blast from his vents, and once he’d blinked the dust off his optic lenses Knock Out managed a smile at him, well-versed at pretending normalcy as he was.   
“Think you’re ready for paint, unless you want to sit down for a second and rest?”   
“No no, we can carry on, it’s not particularly taxing.”

“Okay.” He turned around to scoop up a brush and the paint bowl, and set to work applying the paint.

It was pure torment. The gentle, smooth strokes of the brush on his plating tickled and tingled as Breakdown worked it over his body with painstaking care, and all he could do was hold himself as still as possible and try not to squirm. He was so close that his vents wafted warm air over him constantly, and it sent crackles of static crawling along his wires and his fingers curling and uncurling in a vain attempt to distract himself. The only reprieve was when Breakdown finished one section and moved on to another, and Knock Out used the opportunity to draw deeper ventilations in a desperate attempt to subtly cool the rising heat inside him without Breakdown noticing anything was wrong.

It didn’t make any sense, he thought as the bigger bot moved around behind him to work on his back and shoulders. He wasn’t afraid, wasn’t exerting himself physically, his vents were working _fine_ , and Breakdown wasn’t hurting him. So why was his body reacting so strongly? It was only when the brush drew a long, smooth line alongside his spinal strut and the tingling static shot straight to his array and he felt something stir there that he understood, amid dawning horror, what was going on. “Can… can we take a break? Please?” He asked, trying to keep the static out of his voice.

To his relief, Breakdown backed off immediately and he turned to sit down on his pillow pile, his legs drawn up a little and tight together. That had never happened before. He couldn’t remember the last time a touch had evoked a strong reaction that hadn’t been fear. He swallowed, glanced up to where Breakdown had sat opposite him, out of reach but looking concerned. “I’m okay.” He lied smoothly. He felt so exposed, so conscious of his bare, traitorous array even with his legs to shield him. Surely Breakdown would notice its heat, the faint pressure behind parts he hadn’t thought about for years? What if he took it for an invitation?

He clamped down fiercely on those thoughts before they could spiral into panic and focused on breathing and dissipating some of the charge he’d built up. Thinking about other hands on him did the trick quickly enough, though it left his fans whirring for entirely different reasons and it was only when he glanced up and spotted Breakdown’s worried face that he realised all his plating had clamped tight against him. “Did I scare you?”  
“No. It’s just… it’s stupid, don’t worry. I’m fine now. We can carry on.” 

Breakdown didn’t push for an explanation, just waited for him to get back up before he got back to painting. The break was a much-needed relief, but he still felt every stroke of the brush and the almost unbearable urge to squirm. He held out well enough as Breakdown finished up on his back and arms, but the moment his touch moved to his legs he felt the heat and static start to build again, especially with Breakdown’s ventilations brushing his thighs and warming the faint trace of moisture that had gathered between his legs. That, of course, only made matters worse, made the pressure build all the faster and it was all he could do to keep his spike from sliding from its sheath right there and then. 

He couldn’t imagine anything more mortifying.

“Okay, I’m done. Just gotta let it dry.” Breakdown said, pushing himself to his feet and setting his brush aside. Knock Out felt the relief of it like a weight being lifted from his shoulders and huffed a vent. 

“Good, I think my legs are getting tired.” He said, hoping Breakdown wouldn’t notice the strained edge to his smile as he carefully sat down again, not letting any of the painted parts touch anything.   
“Yeah, sorry it took a while. Wanted to make sure everything was smooth, y’know?”   
“It’s fine. It looks like you’ve done an amazing job.” And that, at least, was true. He’d seen bots with a spraygun do less even coats on him, though the process was far quicker. And less… much as he didn’t want to admit it, less _sensual._ It wasn’t fair that Breakdown’s touch made his body betray him like this, when he feared the consequences of it as he did. If only he had the defenses he should have had, a way to conceal his reaction...

Maybe it was time to talk to Ratchet.

“How long will it take to dry?” 

“Maybe an hour at most? Probably best if you stay there and don’t move too much. Want me to get you some fuel?”

“Please.” He needed a moment alone, he suspected, a chance to calm himself and try to get rid of the lingering tingle beneath his plates. For a moment as he settled himself and his hand brushed his thigh he considered trying to take care of the problem the old fashioned way, but the thought of being caught sent a jolt of panic through him strong enough to almost completely kill his arousal. He couldn’t afford to test his trust in Breakdown, doubted he would cope with its inevitable shattering. If he didn’t tempt the bigger bot, he didn’t have to risk him succumbing to that temptation and he could just let himself have a friend.

At least Breakdown seemed to have been too focused on his painting to notice anything was amiss, and when he returned with fuel he seemed his normal self. He handed Knock Out a cube and flopped heavily onto his own berth to drink his. “Sorry that took so long, Ratchet caught me while I was out. Wanted to make sure everyone was okay after the whole Predacon thing.”  
“It’s fine, It’s not like I can go anywhere.” Knock Out shrugged, sipping delicately.   
“Heh, yeah, true. I know it’s boring, but at least when it’s done you won’t need a repaint for a few years unless you get hurt again.”   
“Years? Really, that long?” He vented in relief.   
“Yeah, did your old paint not last that long?”   
“Only a few months. Any time I was scratched at all I would be repainted, and it scratched easily.”

“What a waste. They must have not sealed it properly.”  
“It didn’t really matter. My..” He swallowed, wondering if it was worth talking about this. It would definitely draw attention away from the lingering static under his plating at least, “My master could afford it, and he liked to repaint himself and have me match.”

He regretted saying it a moment later when Breakdown dropped his eyes to the container in his hands, fingers clenching hard enough to dent its metal surface. “I still can’t believe that’s something that happens, there’s people out there who just think they can own other people. It’s evil.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He resisted the urge to cringe if only to avoid smearing the paint, though it was difficult when Breakdown sighed and set his fuel down, leaning his elbows on his knees.   
“No, it’s not your fault. Talking about things is how we figure them out.” Breakdown shook his head. It sounded like something someone else had told him, rather than his own words, Knock Out thought. “And I mean… if you want to talk about it, it’s fine, really. I just wish… ah, it doesn’t matter. Can’t change the past.”

“Mm. I’m here now though, and it’s better.”  
“I’m glad.”

They fell into a silence that, while not entirely easy, wasn’t particularly awkward and didn’t call for anything to fill it aside from the muffled sounds from beyond the tent’s walls and the occasional sloshing of energon in its container. The conversation had killed any arousal on Knock Out’s part thoroughly, and when Breakdown asked him to transform and set to work on the white details the stroke of the brush was no longer agonising, and the little charge that did build in him was much easier to conceal. It was almost soothing, and when Breakdown patted his bonnet and informed him he was done it jolted him out of a half-doze he hadn’t even realised he was in.

“You’re in luck, the white won’t take so long to dry, and then it’s just a clear coat and we’re done.”   
“Do I have to stay in alt?”   
“Yeah, sorry. You can go back to napping if you want.”   
“Oh… I uh, I wasn’t, but I might...” 

Breakdown chuckled and gave him a wave, and Knock Out flashed his lights in acknowledgement as he disappeared out of the tent flap. A nap would be good, he thought, and tomorrow he would talk to Ratchet, once he’d had a chance to pull together what shreds of courage he’d gained here.


	17. Chapter 17

The news of the Predacon had spread quickly, and Ratchet heard worried whispers all around him as he headed back towards the tent he shared with Optimus for the evening. More concerning was the distinct lack of sparklings running around the camp; it was rare for them to be kept inside unless there was real cause to fear for their safety, and he met the eyes of a few wary bots watching the skies as he went.

Optimus was there when he ducked inside, knelt in the large central space of the round tent that served as a meeting place for the tribe’s leaders when necessary. He had a map of the area pinned out on the floor, sketched from scouts’ accounts over the weeks they had camped here, and was studying it with a frown that melted away when he looked up and spotted him. “Ratchet, it’s good to see you. All is well?”   
“People are nervous, but nobody’s hurt of course.” He approached, prepared to sit down beside him, but Optimus rose to press their foreheads together for a moment in greeting, one hand briefly landing on Ratchet’s waist to pull him in. “Why, do we have reason to worry?”   
“I am not sure.” Optimus looked back at the map, the frown returning for a moment. Ratchet followed his gaze to find several small stones marking spots on it, surrounding the camp in a wide arc. “Since Predaking’s attack on the city convoy, there have been other distant sightings of his people, but none so close as this one. I cannot determine whether they mean us ill, or some sort of vengeance for our attack on their leader, but it may be wise for us to move sooner rather than later.”

Ratchet nodded, turning to crouch with a creak of his knees next to the map, his hand running along Optimus’ arm as he did so. “Fortunately they don’t seem to be between us and the hot spot, and it’s about time we were heading that way anyway. The whole business with Knock Out delayed us, and we can’t afford much more.” 

Optimus made a low sound of agreement as Ratchet rose again, wincing. He needed some oil, but he’d had so much to do and he’d neglected himself more than he realised. Fixing up their newest member had been more important, and now he thought about it that was something he should really bring up...

Optimus, as always, seemed to almost read his mind. Centuries together had made them clear as water to each other, and he would never stop being grateful for that. “I have been thinking about that, yes. Have you noticed anything… odd, about him?”   
“Who, Knock Out? He’s very odd. I imagine growing up like that would make anyone a bit odd.” 

“That is not what I mean.” Ratchet didn’t even startle when Optimus’ hand slid around to rest on the glass of his chestplate. “When I first met him, I felt something. My spark knew him. He is too young to be my twin, and I know we are not bonded, so there is only one thing that can mean…”   
Ratchet sighed, bringing his own hand up to rest over Optimus’. “I know. I felt it too. But it’s impossible. He seems to have spent his whole life in the cities, he knows nothing about us. He can’t possibly be…” His vocaliser stuttered, and he felt Optimus squeeze him a little, comforting.   
“I know, it is hard to imagine how such a bot could be our creation. But we lost so many, I suppose it must be the will of Primus that we find one again.” Optimus’ voice was soothing, a deep rumble that he felt through his back as much as heard, and his derisive snort at the words lacked any conviction.   
“I suppose you would know. It would have been nice if He could have warned us, though.”   
“He works in mysterious ways, my love. We will have to see how this will unfold. Will you tell him?”   
Ratchet shook his head. “Not now. He won’t understand. I wouldn’t want him to think we have some kind of claim on him, not when he’s still fragile.” Not now, when he wasn’t sure how Knock Out would respond, when he wasn’t sure how  _ he _ would respond if his creation rejected him. There had been enough sparkbreak over such things, he thought.   
“Then we will wait and watch, and when he is ready he will know.” Optimus gently drew away, his fingers catching Ratchet’s to lead him into their private quarters, curtained off at the back of the tent. “For now, we both need our rest. I suspect Primus will have more trials for us come the dawn.”

Ratchet grumbled and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked into the tiniest of smiles as he followed him. “He always does.”


	18. Chapter 18

The light reflecting off his new paintwork was almost blinding when Knock Out stepped outside the next morning, or perhaps he only imagined it. He certainly  _ felt  _ like a gleaming beacon, and for once at least the eyes that fell upon him had an explanation, something other than the shape of him to appreciate. He did look amazing, he thought as he caught sight of himself in the shiny side of an energon tank, gleaming crimson and stark white in the sun, the crisp, stylised flames sprawling across his forearms and down his chest. This wasn’t the paint of a slave, no, this was something he had chosen for himself, something the city’s fashionable would have crawled over each other to get. 

But still, one undeniable part of his old life still lingered. He looked towards Ratchet’s tent, hoping against hope that perhaps he could magically learn to see through the walls and find out if the old medic was even there. More importantly, find out if Breakdown wasn’t. The blue bot had been absent when he’d woken and he hadn’t seen him around the camp yet, and his spark was in his mouth as he wandered closer. He hoped he looked casual. He doubted it, somehow.

He felt that strange tug on his spark as he approached the healers’ tent, and for a moment he worried that Optimus might be present. To his immense relief, Ratchet was alone when he peered through the tent flap, mostly hidden behind the wall. Unfortunately, the old bot was apparently telepathic or had exceptionally good hearing, because he looked up the moment Knock Out spotted him, and tipped his head at him quizzically. “You need something?”

It took Knock Out a moment to respond, gathering his words so his vocaliser wouldn’t short out from nerves when he tried to speak. “Do you have a moment? In private?”   
“Of course.” Ratchet didn’t seem remotely phased as he stepped further back into the tent and gestured for him to follow. He slipped inside, letting the flap fall behind him so that the light was dimmed and they were safe from prying eyes. Even like this, before he’d said or done anything, he already felt exposed and unsafe, and he hated that. 

“I… want to thank you, first of all. For saving my life, for treating me like a person who’s wishes mattered. I don’t know if you know how much that means.”   
“I had my suspicions. But it’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for anyone else in this tribe, so don’t worry about it. I suspect there’s something else though?” Ratchet’s tone was patient, but Knock Out still felt pinned under his gaze, and knew there was no escaping now. He’d come this far.   
“I need you to look at something for me. But… I know this is strange, but could you put me in stasis first? It needs fixing, but I don’t want to panic about you touching me.” 

He averted his eyes, watching Ratchet out of the corner of his gaze as he waited for a response. He was expecting anger, admonishment for being weak, a coward. But there was nothing like that, only confusion that slowly dawned into horrified understanding. “I think I know what you want. Alright. Yes, I can do that. Do you want me to fix whatever’s wrong, if I can, or wake you up and tell you first?”   
“Fix it. Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”   
“It won’t be.” Ratchet’s voice had done something strange, gone soft and a little staticky, and there was a moment where he reached out towards him, then thought better of it and placed his hand on the table instead. “I might need to make some parts, so you might have to wait a little, but the health of anyone in this tribe will never be too much trouble, and that includes you.”

Knock Out felt his shoulders sag, a tension going out of them that he hadn’t even realised was there. “Thank you, Ratchet.”   
“Psh, you already thanked me once, you’ll inflate my ego so much I’ll float away.” He waved it off, though it seemed a little forced as he turned away to prepare his tools and patted the table with a low clang. “Come and lay down up here, I’ll get you sorted out.”

It felt like the longest step he had ever taken, but Knock Out nodded and crossed to the table, trying to lay on his back as best he could with his wheels in the way before Ratchet nudged him over onto his side. His fingers brushed the back of his head, and he tensed and screwed his eyes shut. “Try to relax. It’ll make the stasis easier.”

“Wait… is Breakdown around?” He asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him and he lifted his head a little to glance around.   
“You don’t want him to know about this?”   
“If it can be avoided…”   
“It can. He’s out on patrol this morning, he won’t be back until noon, most likely.”

Knock Out sighed in relief and laid his head back down so that Ratchet could reach the access panel at the base of his head. “Okay. Thank you, I’m ready.” 

As stasis overtook him he felt a momentary stab of doubt, but before he could express it the void rose up to claim him, and he knew nothing more. It felt like he merely blinked, but the moment he woke he knew something was different.

His limbs felt heavy and it was dark, and for a moment he thought it must have taken a lot longer than he expected. Had Breakdown wandered in while he was unconscious, seen Ratchet working on him? His eyes snapped open with horror at that thought and he flailed a little, his fingers coming into contact with fabric that, on closer inspection, turned out to be a blanket tucked around him. With his eyes open, he could tell that the darkness was because he was in a small, curtained off section of a tent that he hadn’t seen before, the walls thicker to keep the light dim and small charms and beads dangling from strings on the ceiling that tinkled softly. Voices drifted in from behind the curtain in front of him, Ratchet’s familiar soft tones and a deeper rumble that he didn’t recognise, but no sign of Breakdown.

He let himself relax a little and just lay there until his systems booted properly and he could think a little more clearly. Ratchet had obviously put him back here out of sight until he woke up, and his spark fluttered with gratitude at the small gesture. He turned his focus inwards a little, noting the sluggishness of his frame and the strangely dulled sensation of the fabric against his plating. There was no pain, but a strange heaviness between his legs caught his attention and he frowned slightly. Slowly, he flexed his fingers to test their responsiveness, and when he found them all in order he slid his hand beneath the blanket, running hesitantly down his body to investigate. 

He’d become used to the overly sensitive, thinner metal of his array being exposed, so when his fingers brushed plating instead he blinked in surprise and pressed against it a little more firmly, only to wince at a dull ache that he’d come to associate with fresh welds. Pulling the blanket up and curling over, he realised with a frustrated grumble that he couldn’t actually see that part of his body properly, but further exploration suggested a thin, subtle cover. He didn’t think anyone else would notice the difference if he didn’t spread his legs in front of them- not that he was inclined to anyway- but he huffed a vent of relief and relaxed down. It was fixed, Ratchet had fixed him, given him some defense. He wondered if the old bot would know how much it meant. Perhaps it was stupid, but already he felt so much less vulnerable.

He lay there a little longer, just exploring without trying to open the guards, then realised that he was starting to get low fuel warnings and reluctantly pushed himself upright. He was a little wobbly at first, but a few moments of sitting at the edge of the berth soon righted that and he crossed to the curtain and peeked out.

Sure enough, he was still in the healers’ tent and whoever Ratchet had been speaking to was gone, leaving just the old medic cleaning his tools. “Ratchet?”   
“Oh good, you’re awake. How do you feel? I can install a pain blocker if it hurts. If you want anything changed it might have to wait though, let the welds settle first.”   
“No, no, it’s fine. Perfect. And it doesn’t hurt that much. Thank you.” He managed a smile as he stepped out, carefully detangling himself from the trailing blanket and the curtain. Ratchet watched him intently as he walked, and for a moment he almost hesitated, but the old bot’s nod caught him off guard.    
“Good, good. It doesn’t seem to be impeding you at all so I got the fit right. I wouldn’t try.. Hmm.. wouldn’t try using it for a couple of days, to let it integrate properly.”   
Knock Out felt his fans whirr and he shook his head vigorously, not noticing he was taking a step back until he had already done it. “I won’t! I.. I don’t…”   
“It’s okay, it’s none of my business.” Ratchet said, holding up his hands placatingly, his eyes wide. Unusual for a medic to be perturbed by the idea of interface, but then in his experience it was unusual for them to care much about their patients, either. He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck under the premise of checking the access port was closed properly. 

“Hm. Yes, of course. Anyway, thank you. This is going to make my life so much easier,” he mumbled, “Do you… need to check anything or can I go?”   
“You can go when you’re ready. I’ll need you to come back in a couple of days, but for now try not to do anything too strenuous and come back if you’re in any discomfort, alright?”   
“Alright. I will, thank you again, it’s… I can’t say that enough”   
“I noticed. Really, it’s fine. Go on, Breakdown was wondering where you’d gone, I didn’t tell him you were here.” 

He nodded and headed outside, squinting slightly. It was mid-afternoon perhaps, with lookouts switching shifts near the edge of the camp and small groups of bots settled down outside their tents to repair equipment or build things. Breakdown didn’t take much effort to find, helping to hold up a tent while its owner reinforced the poles, but before he could approach him he found Starscream blocking his way, wings hiked up high.

“There you are! I almost didn’t recognise you, looking all shiny like that. It’s excellent to see someone else in this camp with a sense of taste.” He said, tapping a talon against his chin as he looked him up and down approvingly. 

“Breakdown did it.” He admitted, brushing a miniscule speck of dust from his chestplates, self-conscious under Starscream’s gaze. 

“Hm, well, I suppose you’d have trouble doing it yourself. Perhaps I should get him to do mine… anyway, come on. I’ve been informed that I must teach you how to fight. Why me I don’t know; I suppose neither of us are as strong as most of the warriors here, far more elegant and refined.” He waved a hand theatrically and turned to go, obviously just expecting him to follow.

It took him a couple of tries to get the words out and object, but he managed it. “I just spoke to Ratchet, I’m not supposed to be doing anything strenuous right now… I mean, not to contradict whoever told you but that just happened…”   
“Oh. Hmm. Did you get hurt on our little expedition yesterday?”   
“No, it’s… something else.” It was all he could do not to squirm visibly, but Starscream still raised a brow ridge at him.

“Suit yourself.” He waved it off with a flick of his wings, “In that case, I believe Lug and Anode were making rust sticks, you might learn something useful from them. Or gain yourself tasting privileges, if you’re helpful.”

“I’ll go and find them.” He promised, then darted off in the direction he’d indicated.

The two femmes were welcoming enough, and the rust sticks were delicious, but Knock Out found himself horribly distracted for the entire afternoon and barely remembered anything they told him. All he could think about was the new plating, the slight itch of integrating welds and the dull ache as his sensors came fully online, and it took a great deal of effort not to fidget where he sat. He was happy to escape when they finally finished, though he thanked them both profusely as he got up and returned to Breakdown’s- his!- tent.

Once he was alone, he barely resisted the temptation to touch himself, check it was still there, experiment perhaps. He got as far as leaning back on the berth and brushing a hand over the cover, but the pressure of his clawtip on the seam sent a cold shiver of fear down his backstruts and he retreated, sitting up and squeezing his thighs together to chase away the chill. Maybe he would wait. Ratchet had said to let it heal, right? It could wait until after his initiation at least, he had plenty to occupy himself with until then, so much to learn.


	19. Chapter 19

The ceremony was announced a few days later, only a couple of days before it was planned to take place, though the entire tribe had already known it was coming soon and had time to get excited. Optimus had called as many of them as could fit around his tent and said, in his calm voice, that two nights from then they would have a new member among them. His gaze fell gently on Knock Out, and the nervous whirring of fans had nothing to do with the patrol he had just returned from and everything to do with the way his spark yearned for the Prime’s regard.

Those two days passed in an excited blur, the normal hum of the tribe giving way to chatter and enthusiasm. Knock Out found himself noticed wherever he went, encouraging words and eager promises of welcome and fun following him around the camp. It was all a little daunting, but strangely he found himself enjoying the attention, and every now and then he would let himself be drawn into conversation, entertain offers of teaching in all sorts of crafts. He wanted to try everything, and by the time the initiation rolled around he had dipped his feet into everything from weapons handling to basket weaving.

That day, he spent the morning trying to act as normally as possible despite the thrumming nerves in his spark. Starscream had assured him that he wouldn't be expected to say or do much, but he still worried that he would get it wrong somehow. He tried to push it from his mind and focus on the energon preparation he was being shown, but it kept coming back and when Breakdown approached from behind his current teacher he nearly dropped the container he was holding. He recovered well enough to set it down safely as he stood to greet the bigger bot. 

“Are you ready?” Breakdown asked, his eyes bright but his hands fidgeting nervously, “Optimus sent me to get you- it's traditional for the one who brought someone to the tribe to help them prepare and… Well, that's me, technically.”

He nodded. “What do we need to do?”   
“Not much. Get you clean, and I have a little gold paint if you want some special detailing. More special than you already look, anyway.” Breakdown smiled, and Knock Out tried to hide the low buzz of his fans with a noise of agreement.   
“Sounds good.” He said, gesturing for Breakdown to lead the way.

He took him back to their tent, where a bucket held water and a few supplies had been laid out for him; soap and wax, or at least something similar, and clean cloths and brushes that could get in between the spokes of his wheels and the transformation seams in his armour. “Do you want my help?” Breakdown asked, gesturing to the arrangement. Knock Out considered it, then shook his head.   
“I can do it. But… maybe with the paint?” He suggested. Having someone help him wash just seemed too intimate, but the paint seemed a conciliatory gesture. Breakdown was his friend, after all, and he was better at detail work than his huge, blunt hands would suggest. It seemed to work, since he grinned and nodded.   
“Sure. I’ll get that ready while you wash?”

It didn’t take long, though Knock Out lingered over the task. He hadn’t realised quite how dusty and dirty he was, after romping around in the wastes for a week. There were stones in his tyre treads, and much to his quiet horror his gleaming crimson paint was scratched in several places under the dirt, though the damage was only minor. He adored the new paintjob Breakdown had done for him, and some small part of him still expected punishment for damaging himself. Breakdown, at least, didn’t seem to notice. When he returned with the paint Knock Out thought he heard his engine rumble just a little, and he tried very hard to ignore that. “You look amazing. Where do you want the paint, on your face? Or maybe your pauldrons, it would look nice on the black part.”

“Face is fine.” It would be subtle against the white, he thought, and Breakdown seemed to agree as he gestured for him to sit and plonked ungracefully in front of him, a fine brush and tiny pot of shimmering gold paint in his hands. Knock Out wondered where he’d gotten that out here, if they’d been stolen from travellers or if they had some way of making their own. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder as Breakdown gently tilted his face so that he could see what he was doing, and applied the paint with a careful, steady hand to line his eyes and the ridges of his crest, highlighting the contours with shining gold. The unease faded when he realised he wasn’t going to be poked in the eyes, and Breakdown didn’t take long. “You have delicate hands” He remarked, smiling to try and defuse the tension.   
“It’s no harder than surgery.” He replied, and though Knock Out still had his eyes closed while the paint dried he could hear his pleasure at the compliment. “Okay, that should do it, you can open your eyes.”   
  


He did so, to find Breakdown holding a tiny, simple mirror up for him to see. The gold was, he decided, quite striking without being tacky or gaudy the way some of the paintjobs that had been forced on him had been. It made him look sharper, highlighting edges rather than softening them, and the gold on the inner corner of his eyes gave him a wild look that he liked far more. “You really are very good at this.” He told Breakdown as he tilted his head this way and that to admire the shimmer of the paint. The bigger bot shrugged self-consciously, then sat back to get a better look.   
“Yeah, well…”   
“Did you do these, as well?” He gestured to the paintings on the tent walls, hoping to divert attention away from himself.   
“Huh? Oh, yeah. A long time ago. I was thinking about repainting them, but I’ll wait until you have a tent of your own before I start changing things. We’ve got more important stuff to do now anyway. D’you feel ready?”

Knock Out considered it, then took a deep vent inwards and nodded. “Is it time?”   
“Will be soon. Come on, we’ll go get settled.” He gestured for Knock Out to follow and headed for the tent flap, leaving him to lengthen his stride and jog after. 

The sun was just starting to set and the camp was lit by flickering fires and lamps. Already, the tribe was beginning to gather by the largest fire which roared higher than Knock Out’s head and danced with colours, green and blue and red. Someone tossed some leaves into the flames and they flared up in purple sparks, and Knock Out couldn’t help but be captivated for a moment as Breakdown led him to sit near the fire, with a good view of an area marked out with stones and well-lit by the firelight. Others soon joined them, throwing smiles and even a couple of waves Knock Out’s way. Hot Rod flopped gracelessly beside him and grinned and he couldn’t help but smile back; the excitement was infectious.

The firelight caught on blue and red plating beside him and Knock Out knew it was Optimus as much by the stutter of his spark as by the sight of him. “Are you ready?” He asked softly, just audible over the gathered tribe. Knock Out could only nod. “There is no need to be nervous, I promise. We are here to welcome you, not to judge you. You are already accepted.”

“I know.” He said quietly, finding his voice even as he struggled to identify the emotion swelling his spark. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Then we will begin.” The Prime raised his voice only slightly as he spoke, but the crowd quieted as though he had shouted over them. All eyes focused on him as he moved towards the firelight, his plating glimmering with the flames and his shadow thrown long across the ground.

“Welcome, everyone.” He began, his voice clear in the night and backed by the gentle ticking of clockwork crickets out in the scrub. “We gather tonight to welcome a new member to our family. Most of you have already met Knock Out. He has survived much to be here with us, and it is both our responsibility and our honour to return to him the freedom that should always have been rightfully his, as it is the right of all sentient beings.” With this, Optimus reached down and offered his hand to Knock Out, and after a moment’s hesitation he took it and let the Prime pull him to his feet. His spark fluttered nervously as he looked out over the dozens of pairs of eyes glowing at him behind the fire and he almost froze, but his gaze met Breakdown’s and the big bot grinned and nodded at him, and it all seemed so much easier as Optimus led him into the light. He appreciated even more that the Prime’s hand didn’t linger, didn’t trap him there.    
  


“Knock Out?” He was speaking again, and Knock Out looked up at him and forced his fans to spin down. Starscream had told him what to say, it would be fine. “Do you wish to take a place among us?”   
“I do, my Prime.” He nodded, then forced himself to look back up. He was no slave anymore, even if meeting that warm blue gaze was like having his spark laid bare. Optimus’ smile sent a strange warmth through him as he continued.   
“And will you work for the good of all, as they will for you, as long as you live among us?”   
“I will.”   
“Then by the will of Primus, it shall be so. Welcome, Knock Out, to your family.”    
  
A cheer erupted from the assembled tribe and almost as one they rose to their feet, arranging with well-practised efficiency into a ring around the fire with him and Optimus at one side, within the circle. Optimus smiled warmly and turned to begin walking around the inside of the circle, beckoning for Knock Out to follow him. He almost had to jog to catch up with the Prime’s long stride, but he fell into step with him and followed his lead, meeting the eyes of every bot he passed. He felt almost light headed, elated; all these bots here for  _ him _ , welcoming him, seeing him as one of them. Some dark part of him suspected some sort of trick or lie to it, but he pushed it down and even dared to touch hands with some that he already knew better. Starscream offered a smirk and a comment about his paint, others told him how excited they were to teach him things, and Ratchet looked so inexplicably filled with pride that Knock Out was surprised it didn’t leak out.   
  
And Breakdown…

Breakdown was beaming at him as he passed, and when their hands touched he thought he felt a spark between them that seemed to shiver up his forearm. Knock Out felt like he should say something, but words stuttered into static in his vocaliser, and he wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted. For Breakdown to smile at him like that all the time, to touch him more, perhaps. He only managed a quiet ‘thank you’ before he had to move on, but he hoped Breakdown would understand.

They made a complete circuit to return to where they had begun and took their place in the circle, and the gathered bots fell quiet again as Optimus was handed a large bowl of softly glowing energon. “From now on, we will share all we have with you, as you will with us. Our tribe lives and dies on our ability to work together, and our bonds with each other, and so tonight we give thanks and share this fuel under the eyes of Primus, so that He may smile on the new bonds that we will form with our new member.” Optimus intoned. He raised the bowl to his mouth and took a tiny sip, then handed the bowl to Knock Out and gestured for him to do the same. 

It wasn’t the usual sweet, pure energon he’d gotten used to out here. There was something rich and heady about it and it coated his tongue strangely, but he didn’t let the rising worry show as he passed the bowl to the next person in the circle. They wouldn’t poison something that was intended to be drunk by everyone just to get at him somehow, that would be ridiculous. And indeed, though the flavour lingered in his mouth he felt no ill effects by the time the bowl returned to Optimus, still with a little fuel left in the bottom of it despite the number of bots who had drunk from it. The Prime stepped forward, bowed deeply towards the fire, and flicked the last of the fuel into the flames. It combusted in a flash of blue and a puff of smoke that diffused into the dark and the assembled tribe broke out into cheers.   
  
“Primus accepts our offering.” Optimus spoke above the noise, somehow making himself heard. “Go now, feast, for we have much to celebrate!” 

The cheers rose briefly in volume until Knock Out felt almost overwhelmed by the noise, but it lasted only a few moments before dying down as everyone began to disperse, running towards their tents and returning swiftly with all manner of containers, all containing all manner of foods.

It seemed that everyone in the tribe had made something different for the event. There was liquid energon in a variety of hues, which Knock Out now knew to be spiked with various minerals and ground plants; stacks of the gelled and crystallised candies Starscream had shown him; sticks of metals, some rolled in rust or covered in crystals; even a plate of tiny animals cast from what looked like gold or electrum that would rival anything he’d ever seen at an opulent city gathering. 

He was too busy drinking it in with his eyes to notice anyone approach until Starscream reset his vocaliser beside him, and he shot forward a couple of feet with a screech of tyres from his heels and a rev from his engine. He slowed his fans, and found much to his chagrin that the jet was laughing at him. “Quite the spread, isn’t it?” He drawled once he’d calmed himself, then beckoned for Knock Out to follow him towards the blankets the food had been laid out on. “Come on, don’t just stand there, this is all for you so you might as well enjoy some of it.” 

He followed, slightly at a loss as to what else to do. “So what happens now?”   
“Well, in two days we’ll be packing up and moving on. But tonight, we celebrate and get so overcharged that tomorrow will be a complete loss.” He said with a grin as he handed a glass to Knock Out, filled with something pink that seemed to be fizzing slightly. “So drink up. Manganese is good for you, you know.”

He stared down at the glass, weighing his options, then decided to throw caution to the wind. He’d never felt safer, more like be belonged somewhere, and when he tipped his head back and swallowed the whole lot at once it left sparks dancing across his tongue and the night seeming a lot brighter and more colourful. Somebody cheered behind him and he felt a hand pat him on the back, but before he could see who it was other bots were there, congratulating him and handing him things. Starscream had, he realised, flounced off somewhere, and for a moment he had to fight the urge to bolt away from the press until he spotted a familiar boxy blue chassis and realised Breakdown had made his way over. His looming presence was strangely reassuring, and though the big bot didn’t say anything Knock Out found himself more able to respond, smiling and thanking the others. Everything he put in his mouth was delicious, richer than anything he’d ever eaten before, and he had a horrible suspicion he’d end up purging half of it before the night was over but found himself enjoying it too much to care.

After half an hour or so- he wasn’t sure, it was so easy to lose track of time when he was having fun and the energon had left him buzzing pleasantly- music started up from somewhere on the other side of the fire and Arcee was whisked away from their conversation by a larger bot who twirled her around and into his arms, both of them laughing as others joined them near the fire in a lively dance. Knock Out found himself watching avidly; sure, he’d seen dancing before, even done it himself, but it had always been a performance for the pleasure of others. These bots looked like they were having fun, and clearly didn’t care who was watching them. Little Hot Rod darted past, dragging a taller, white-plated bot with him, and Breakdown chuckled behind him.

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, tipping his head. “I mean, I’m not good at it, always step on people’s feet, but I bet anyone would be happy to dance with you. It’s your party.”

“I… don’t really know how to dance with someone.” He admitted, touching his collar. “I danced, but always alone. Always watched.”    
“Oh. That seems… lonely.”

“It was.” He averted his gaze, watching the dancers a little more and finishing the energon in his hand before he could pluck up his courage. “Show me? Please?”   
“Huh?” 

“Show me how to dance? Starscream is busy and I trust you the most.”

“Oh… I really am bad at it, promise, but… sure.” He reached out a hand and after a moment Knock Out took it, unable to ignore the way it made him smile when he didn’t think Knock Out was looking.

Breakdown was right; even to Knock Out, who knew nothing of this type of dance, he seemed pretty clumsy. He nearly trod on Knock Out’s feet several times, but did succeed in helping him to pick up the lively rhythm of the music. It was mostly drums, with a strong beat accompanied by some other instruments he wasn’t familiar with, and it was easy to fall into the movements once he realised everyone else was too busy enjoying themselves to look at him. Their shadows seemed to chase each other around the fire, leaping with reckless abandon as Breakdown spun him under his arm and whirled him around with more enthusiasm than grace, and when the drums came to a pounding halt he found himself gazing up at him, his vents blowing and his plating flared to dump the heat. He was, he realised, smiling just as much as Breakdown was, and for a moment the noise of the tribe seemed to fade and there was just them, just crimson eyes gazing into amber and the sound of fans.

Knock Out was the first to break it, lowering his gaze with a soft chuckle.    
“Good?” Breakdown asked hopefully.   
“Very. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. But… can we sit, I think I need to rest.”   
“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” Breakdown let go of his hands and gestured for him to follow, swinging by the food to grab more energon before sitting down heavily off to the side with his legs crossed, just out of the circle of firelight and well out of the way of the other dancers, but where they could still see. Knock Out followed suit with a little more grace, though his leg struts creaked with relief to have his weight off of them. He may never have had that much fun, but he also wasn’t used to such vigorous activity just yet. At least, not standing up.

They sat quietly together for a while, sipping their fuel, and Knock Out found himself admiring the way the firelight flickered off Breakdown’s face, highlighting the contours of his head and the strong, sharp angles of his chest. He didn’t want to be caught staring, and every time he realised what he was doing he looked away, at his hands or the dancers or just off into the fire, but once or twice their eyes met before he managed to snatch his gaze away. He wondered if Breakdown was looking at him, too, and he wasn’t sure if the shiver that ran up his back at that thought was fear or… something else. It had to be the fuel he’d had, he thought. But Breakdown  _ was _ very handsome…

He was staring again, he realised. Except Breakdown was looking back at him, and their eyes locked and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The fire seemed to shine back at him from those eyes, bright as they were from the excess energon. He could lose himself in this, he thought dimly.

Breakdown shifted slightly, incredibly slowly as though trying not to frighten a startled animal. When Knock Out didn’t move, he uncrossed his legs and shifted them around to the side, leaning his weight on one hand and his body down towards him. Knock Out leaned back ever so slightly as he loomed over him, his spark skipping for a moment, and he seemed to freeze. “You okay?” He asked, his voice barely audible above the music. 

Was he? He was suddenly keenly aware of how big Breakdown was, how powerful, and how very close. But somehow- and it had to be the energon- any fear he felt was dim and distant. Breakdown had never hurt him, and a small part of him that had always been buried was now deeply curious as to what he was planning to do. He nodded, just the barest tilt of his head and Breakdown relaxed, settling down into a position where he was mostly leaned over but not looming, his face level with Knock Out’s. For a moment nothing happened. Then he shifted forwards, and before Knock Out could react he pressed their mouths together with utmost care.

He sat frozen, his spark racing as his engine flared to life with a loud rumble. His processor seemed to screech to a halt, throwing up several error messages that resolved themselves before he could even acknowledge them. It felt like sparks crawled across his form beneath his plating, radiating out from where they touched, and even galvanised as he was he had no idea how to react. He had to do  _ something _ ! But what?

Before he could figure it out, it was over. Breakdown pulled back, leaving nothing but cool air on his face and a faint tingling where his mouth had been. He realised he was staring at him, wide-eyed, but he couldn’t stop and he had no idea what to say. He tried, he really did, but all that came out was a burst of static and another soft growl from his engine. He thought he saw a flicker of concern in Breakdown’s eyes as he leaned back, a tiny frown between his eyes. “Was… was that okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”   
“No! No, I mean yes, I… what  _ was  _ that?” He blurted. He had no idea what that was, what it meant, and it both terrified and thrilled him.   
“You… you don’t know?” He sat back fully, and Knock Out had to resist an utterly irrational urge to chase after him. He’d just scare himself, he knew it. “You’ve never been kissed?”   
“I… no. I don’t know that word but nobody ever… never. Why?”

“Because…” He looked away, his fingers tapping nervously on his leg. “It’s something we do. With people we like, or who we’re close to. It’s to show affection. I didn’t think, I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t like being touched...”   
“It’s okay.” He reached over and grabbed Breakdown’s hand on impulse. His spark felt like it was going to escape through his vents, especially when he realised that hand was big enough that he’d need both of his to grasp it properly. “I… think I understand. I think I liked it. I don’t know. It was… new. Different.” He admitted. But he wanted to be sure…

He gathered his legs up under him so he could reach up and bump his own mouth against Breakdown’s. He was pretty sure he was doing it wrong, but Breakdown was still warm and there was a little flicker of excitement skittering beneath his plating. For a moment this seemed like the greatest idea in the universe, but then the fuel buzzing through his system betrayed him and a wayward twitch made him lose his balance and have to catch himself with a hasty hand on Breakdown’s thigh. His engine roared when he realised how close he was to the big bot and he threw himself backwards, scrambling up with a yelped apology. This was stupid! Letting himself be so vulnerable in front of everyone, who knew what they would think? Or who would want their own piece of him? 

He caught a glimpse of Breakdown’s face as he scrambled to his feet and dashed away, but only just managed to process it. He looked so lost, so confused by his sudden departure, and though he felt guilt stab at his conscience he didn’t dare stop moving until he was well beyond the firelight, with a tent between him and the party. His tank roiled, his plating seemed to be vibrating and he thought he might purge right there, but he forced his fans to spin up and cool him as he got himself under control. That was stupid, but bolting had been just as stupid, he realised. Now he was alone out here.

And someone was coming. 

Footsteps crunched in the dirt behind the tent and he sank down into its shadow, vents and eyes snapping shut so he wouldn’t make any noise or cast any tell-tale lights. The step was faintly familiar, but through the buzz of his mind he couldn’t work out who it belonged to.

  
“It’s alright, Knock Out, it’s me, Ratchet.” Came a familiar voice, and he felt rather than saw a shadow fall over him. There was a creak as the old bot crouched down, and he cracked his eyes open to see him peering worriedly through the dark at him. “Easy. Open your vents before you overheat, it’s just me. How much fuel have you had tonight?”   
Knock Out’s vents opened with a whoosh and he instantly felt a little cooler and more clear-headed. “I… I don’t know. A lot?”   
“I thought so. Look up at me?” He obeyed, a little alarmed when he realised his eyes were glowing brightly enough to reflect off the white parts of Ratchet’s plating. “Thought so. You’ve just had a bit too much fuel and overcharged your system. It can make you a little anxious if you’re not used to it. Or a lot anxious, by the looks of it.”

He nodded, curling his legs up a bit, and Ratchet huffed a sigh and sat down next to him. “Did something happen? I just saw you bolt.” 

Knock Out thought for a moment, then shook his head in a jerky motion. “Nothing bad. I did something stupid and got spooked and Breakdown probably hates me now and-” He stopped himself, his fans whirring nervously. He hadn’t meant to say that much, but his mouth was running faster than his processor and it was so  _ easy _ to get away from himself. “What do I do? How do I make it stop?”   
“It’s going to last for a while, I’m afraid. But you can usually help it along by doing something vigorous- something  _ safe _ , mind you. Your decision making won’t be the best right now, either. Most people I know like to dance it off.”

“I did try the dancing. It was fun.” He admitted, his shoulders relaxing and the pauldrons sinking a little.    
“Come on then. Shall we go dance a little?” Ratchet suggested, offering a hand without actually touching him. Knock Out considered it, taking the pause to allow his fans to cool him a little and to let his processor slow down enough to actually process his thoughts.   
“I didn’t see you dancing before.”   
“I don’t do it much. Getting too old and creaky. But I can manage a bit.” He thought for a moment he saw a flash of a smile across Ratchet’s face, lit by the glow of his eyes, and that decided it for him. He took his hand and they helped each other to their feet, then let go and he followed Ratchet back towards the fire.

He didn’t see Breakdown again that evening, or if he did he didn’t remember. It was a blur of movement and colourful flames and faces, letting go of his inhibitions and letting himself move to the music as though he’d been born to do it. He remembered sticking close to Ratchet, even though the old healer was far less fluid in motion than him, even remembered laughing a little at something he’d grumbled about. He remembered seeing Optimus smiling from a little distance away, his gaze only for Ratchet, and as things were beginning to wind down he approached them both and joined them, which seemed utterly undignified for a Prime but Knock Out managed to restrain himself from saying so. If the avatar of Primus wanted to dance, who was he to question it?

Somehow he made it back to Breakdown’s-  _ his _ , now- tent and into his pile of pillows and blankets, strangely drained once the overcharge started wearing off. Someone must have guided him, he thought dimly, but he didn’t know who. It didn’t matter for long, as he soon lost the battle with unconsciousness and faded into rest.


	20. Chapter 20

Breakdown woke the next day with a deep, abiding ache in his processor and a strangely empty sensation in his tanks. He groaned quietly as the shaft of light sneaking through the crack in the tentflap hit him directly in the eyes right as they came online, and rolled over to bury his face in a pillow. Slowly, more of his processor came online, complaining of some shorted circuits and fragmented memory banks, but his self-repair was already kicking in and experienced as he was with that kind of party, he suspected he would be fine by noon.

No doubt everyone else in the tribe was faring about as well as he was. A new member was always cause for wild celebration, and the circumstances of Knock Out’s arrival meant that they had his freedom as well as his initiation to celebrate. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much high grade…

Wait.

Where was- “Knock Out?” He mumbled into the pillow, suddenly smacked with the realisation that he hadn’t even noticed whether the city bot had made it back before he’d crashed into his berth. He thought he’d seen him dancing with Ratchet of all people after… after…

Oh no. Oohh no. He pushed himself up with a creak and looked over at the other berth, then sighed in relief when he saw one of Knock Out’s wheels poking out from his nest of pillows. He was on his side with his back to Breakdown, and the occasional twitch of a plate or soft rumble from his engine suggested he was still alive and well. Breakdown allowed himself a sigh of relief, and flopped back down when his head protested at being upright for too long. Of course, his tanks chose that moment to pop up a few low fuel warnings. He ignored it for a couple of minutes, not wanting to move for both his own sake and to not disturb Knock Out, but eventually it forced him upright and outside.   
  
The light was blinding, and he threw an arm up over his eyes with a muffled groan of protest. Judging by the position of the sun, he guessed it was mid-morning when the camp would usually be bustling, but as far as he could tell there were maybe two or three other bots moving around. As he stumbled towards the remnants of last night’s fire in search of fuel, he spotted Optimus strolling around the periphery of the camp, presumably keeping watch, and a couple of others who had apparently not bothered trying to make it back to their tents, cuddled up near the embers and completely asleep in each other’s arms. He couldn’t help but smile, even if moving his face made his head hurt a little.

There were still quite a few of the energon treats and metallic snacks left from the night before, though he avoided the dregs of brightly-coloured high-grade that were starting to crystallise in the bottoms of their bowls. Those would be good to eat soon, he suspected, but the last thing he needed was the boost to his metabolism that they would provide right now. Some of the tamer jellies called to him though, and after he’d consumed a few of them he felt a little less horrible. He gathered up a few more to take back for Knock Out who, if his memory of his first experience with high-grade was anything to go by, was going to feel like the Unmaker himself was tap-dancing on his forehead when he woke up.

Sure enough, when he returned all that was visible of Knock Out was a quietly whining pile of blankets and one hand holding a pillow firmly over his head. The noise stopped when Breakdown let the tent flap close with a rustle, and he moved to crouch down a reasonable distance from the berth.    
“Hey. I brought you fuel.” He said, keeping his voice to a low rumble that hopefully wouldn’t cause the poor bot too much pain. The blankets twitched away from him, then one corner lifted up and a pair of red lights peered out at him, dimmer than usual. “I know, it sucks. You’ll feel better if you eat, I promise. It’s not high-grade.”

The lights narrowed slightly, and Knock Out’s voice mumbled out in a language Breakdown didn’t speak, before he heard him reset his vocaliser and try again. “I think I’m going to purge.” He informed him quietly and with great certainty.

“You won’t, promise. You probably burned through everything you had last night, so now you need more.” He nudged the little bowl of gelled energon towards him, then backed off to sit on his own berth to give him space.

It took a few moments, but eventually his hand uncurled from the pillow he’d been holding and dragged it under the blankets, though he made no move to actually emerge for another several minutes. Breakdown just settled back down and crunched his way through a pilfered rust stick, waiting patiently. Nobody would expect him- or anyone else for that matter- to do very much today.

He let his mind wander back over what he remembered from the night before, and once again it all came back to that one moment of… bravery? Stupidity? Probably stupidity, considering what had happened afterwards. He mumbled a curse and ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. How could he have been so dense?! Kissing the one bot in the tribe who neither understood what it meant nor liked being touched! No wonder Knock Out didn’t want to come out of his blanket pile, if he had to face him after that. Did he even remember? Breakdown wasn’t sure what to hope for, or if he should even ask. 

He’d just decided not to bring it up unless Knock Out did, when a flash of red caught his eye and Knock Out’s head emerged, bleary eyed and with his gold paint slightly smeared. He looked faintly stunned at the continued existence of the universe- a sensation Breakdown knew well from mornings like this- then turned his bafflement on Breakdown as he sat up on his knees, the blanket caught on his wheels like some kind of bizarre cape. Breakdown felt his spark stutter. How could he look so beautiful even like this? How could the universe be so very unfair?

For a moment neither of them said anything, then Knock Out reset his vocaliser with a little burst of static and looked away. “I’m sorry about last night. I panicked. I don’t know why. It was good and I wanted more but I panicked and then running seemed like a much better idea.”

Breakdown blinked a couple of times, stunned. “You’re not upset?”   
“Not any more. I remember being scared, but now I just feel stupid.” He shook his head and shifted to cross his legs, drawing the blanket around his shoulders. “It was the high-grade, right? Ratchet said it could make you anxious.”

“Could be.” Breakdown was sure the relief must be visible on his face. He hadn’t destroyed their budding friendship with his stupid decisions. “But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have done that without asking but… yeah, high-grade. It makes stupid slag seem like the best idea in the world, but it’s not a good excuse.”

“Mmm…” He watched Knock Out take a slow, steady in-vent, thinking. “It’s okay though. You didn’t hurt me. I’m still getting used to the idea that people stop when I ask them to.” 

Breakdown swallowed down the sudden surge of anger at those words. Not directed at Knock Out, never at him, but at the faceless strangers who had hurt him. But showing it wouldn’t change anything right now, would only scare their victim. He scooted a little closer, dragging half the berth with him by accident, and stopped when Knock Out glanced up at him with a flash of wariness. “I won’t hurt you. And I won’t kiss you again, not unless you ask me to.”   
“Do you want to?” Knock Out searched his face, barely daring to blink as he curled his fingers into the blanket.    
“To… to hurt you? No! I… I’d feel awful.” He sat up straighter, then immediately regretted the sudden movement when Knock Out flinched.   
“No, no, I meant… I meant do you want to kiss me again?”   
“Oh…” He heard his fans whir and felt his faceplates heat, put one hand against his forehead for a moment. His turn to feel stupid, apparently. “Well… yeah. But only if you want it. It’s supposed to be a mutual thing, not something you just do to someone.”

“I see.” 

There was a rustle of foil hitting the floor and Breakdown looked up to suddenly find Knock Out in his face, within arm’s reach. He was staring at him intently, up on his knees so their eyes were about level, but he looked like he might bolt at one wrong move. He stayed very still, let the crimson bot come to him. “You ask first, right?” He said quietly, and Breakdown nodded. “Can I try? Just a kiss?” He nodded again. He almost didn’t dare vent as Knock Out leaned in and their mouths brushed ever so lightly, as though Knock Out was afraid he’d hurt him if he was too rough, despite their size difference. He tilted his head slightly, fitting them together a little more smoothly, and he felt a faint vibration across Knock Out’s plating as his engine growled.

They lingered only a few moments like that, but it seemed to stretch to an eternity of warm, gentle touch. Breakdown wondered if he was still overcharged or if someone had slipped something more exotic into the energon last night, but no, this was real, and when Knock Out pulled away he missed the heat from his face, felt the brush of warm air from his fans. He backed up into his berth and pulled the blanket back around himself, and though his face was hard to read when he wasn’t looking directly at him Breakdown was sure he seemed proud of himself, perhaps a little thrilled by it even. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking, he wasn’t sure. Either way, Breakdown had to squash the urge to rev his engine at him, or go over there and prolong the kiss or do something else equally stupid and lust-driven. This had to be at Knock Out’s pace. Let him figure things out before he went trying to push him.

He took in a rush of cool air through his vents, blew it back out and settled back on his berth. “So… we’re going to have to pack up tomorrow morning, but we’ve got the rest of the day to ourselves. I guess you probably wanna recharge and recover a bit, that’s fine. There’s more food I can get you?”

“Is everyone else as worn out as I am?”   
“Heh, yeah, mostly. Nobody expects anything to be done today.”   
“Then… I think I’ll go back to sleep for a while.” It was quite possibly the most assertive thing Breakdown had ever heard him say, and he was almost proud for a moment as Knock Out shuffled back down and pulled the blanket over his head again without waiting for any kind of acknowledgement from him. He chuckled softly to himself and laid back in his own berth, watching the ceiling of the tent ripple slightly as the wind rustled it from outside. Yes, his processor still ached, but somehow he didn’t care so much any more. Knock Out had kissed him, had chosen to kiss him, and he thought his spark might explode from the giddy thrill of that. He felt like a youngling with their first crush again. 

Maybe he was thinking too hard about that, he realised dismally. Knock Out didn’t understand the connotations of the kiss, he’d just said it was a gesture of affection and beyond that the city bot had no experience with it. Why would he think there was some deeper meaning, beyond what could be ascribed to such intimate contact? Everyone in the tribe was more tactile than he seemed to be used to, what if he just assumed that it was something friends did with each other? It could be, Breakdown supposed, but he knew full well he hadn’t meant it that way when he’d kissed him at the celebration. 

His good mood rapidly vanishing, he closed his eyes and tried to hold on to the warmth of him and the pleased smile on Knock Out’s face before he’d retreated into the blankets. He’d been pleased. They could talk about what it meant once neither of them had a pounding headache anymore; there would be long days of driving ahead, where they could have a private conversation over comms if they wanted to and he could really explain. But what if that scared Knock Out into running away from their budding friendship? What if he wanted nothing to do with him if he was under the impression he wanted more than just friendship?

Worse, what if he felt like he had to oblige, because Breakdown brought concepts like love into the whole mess? Did he even love Knock Out? He knew he found him  _ attractive,  _ and liked to spend time with him, but those were different things. He’d interfaced with plenty of bots within the tribe who he’d liked and found attractive, but he didn’t love them beyond close, enduring friendship. 

He made a frustrated noise and pulled a pillow over his face, closing his eyes in the close press of the yielding material. He was going to drive himself insane overthinking this. All he could do was wait, just let Knock Out get comfortable with him. Maybe kiss him a little more, if he wanted to. The travel would definitely be welcome; hopefully he’d be too tired to think too much about the beautiful bot sharing his space at the end of each day.

He rolled onto his side, keeping the pillow over his head, and forced himself to stop thinking about it and close his eyes. Rest took longer to come, but after the revelry of the night before it was inevitable.


	21. Chapter 21

The rest of that day passed uneventfully, small conversations and napping and raiding of the celebration food, a few smiles exchanged with equally hungover members of the tribe. Only the minibots seemed unaffected, their voices loud enough to make Knock Out wince when he finally dared emerge from the tent. He wondered if they just hadn’t partaken of the highgrade, or if their systems cleared it out more efficiently or something. They still seemed to appreciate the break from their chores though, and he was nearly bowled over on his way back from the smouldering remains of the fire by a pack of them chasing a turbowolf with a strip of cloth trailing from its mouth.

His headache receded over the day with liberal application of fuel and sleep, and by the time Breakdown nudged him awake the next day he almost felt like a real bot again. Half the tent already seemed to have been packed up as he looked around, all Breakdown’s bedding rolled into a neat bundle tied with a cable or used to cushion more fragile things.

“We have to go?” He asked, blinking online.   
“Not just yet, we’ve gotta take the tent down and pack your stuff. I left you as long as I could.” Breakdown explained with a smile as he turned back to his own.

“Oh, thank you.” He said, pushing himself out of his nest with a little effort and starting to gather things together as best he could.

He didn’t have much to pack, really. Bedding, a few fuel vessels he’d been gifted, but nothing personal to him, and he and Breakdown ended up finishing around the same time. They both put the bundles outside, then Breakdown showed him how to collapse and roll up the tent for transport, which was a surprisingly quick process. It almost seemed to fold in on itself and, once folded, could be picked up by Knock Out alone. Around them, others were doing much the same, and he even spotted Optimus taking down his own tent. For a city Prime, such manual labour would be unthinkable, but Optimus didn’t seem to consider it remotely beneath him. Once they were done, nobody seemed to think twice about moving on to help someone else with their tent, or to move on to gathering up the camp’s animals and leashing them.

“I’m going to help Ratchet pack up the healers’ tent, do you wanna come help?” Breakdown asked, as he finished piling up their things on the flattened earth where the tent had been.   
“Sure. He must have a lot to pack.”    
“Yeah, with his herbs and equipment. It always takes ages.” He chuckled, gesturing for Knock Out to follow him over to Ratchet’s tent.

Despite the comment, it took far less time than Knock Out expected to completely pack the tent. The examination tables transformed into crates with a few quick movements, and into those could be packed all the square containers and loose bundles of herbs and tools scattered throughout the tent. Breakdown ended up doing most of the heavy lifting since he was so much larger and stronger than Knock Out or Ratchet, but the old medic seemed to appreciate the help in clearing away even if there were a few things that Knock Out was explicitly instructed not to touch. The tent folded up much as Breakdown’s had, and Ratchet tucked it under his arm, hefted a crate, and jerked his head for them both to follow with their own loads.   
  
Where Optimus’ tent had stood there were instead two trucks with long flatbed trailers, one blue and red and the other a paler, solid blue, and Knock Out realised with a jolt that the larger of the two was Optimus himself, waiting patiently while the rest of the tribe loaded things onto his trailer and carefully tied the m down.  Seeing the Prime himself allowing himself to be used as transport was hard for him to process and he had to stop and stare a moment. Breakdown turned back and noticed, cocking his head quizzically.   
“That’s Optimus?”   
“Yeah, he always does this. He and Ultra Magnus there are the biggest, it makes sense for them to carry stuff people can’t manage themselves.” Breakdown shrugged.   
“But he’s the Prime… he’s in charge.”

“Exactly, he’s the Prime,” Ratchet called back, having not really stopped for this conversation, and Knock Out had to start up again to catch up, “Primus gave us all our part to play, and our strengths to play to. Optimus believes in leading by example, so he uses his strength and size to carry what others can’t.”   
“Oh.” Knock Out looked down, feeling faintly stupid. It made sense when it was put that way. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have questioned it. We were taught it a little differently, that’s all.”   
“No no, by all means, question anything you want. Primus also gave us a processor to think with, after all.” Ratchet shrugged. “We do our best but we can’t all be right all the time. Optimus is wise and supposedly guided by Primus, but even he isn’t perfect.”

That statement, made so casually, nearly made him stop in his tracks again but he stumbled on after him as he approached the Prime. Saying such a thing in the city would have been heresy of the highest order, to imply the Prime could be wrong. But apparently out here nobody batted an eyelid, and nobody even looked twice as they approached and Ratchet set down his load and patted Optimus on the bonnet casually. “Not too heavy for you?”   
“Of course not. Has it ever been?” Optimus shifted on his suspension a little, getting comfortable as the weight was distributed. “Hello Breakdown, Knock Out.”   
“Only when all the sparklings climbed on last time.” Ratchet smiled, while Breakdown nodded politely before climbing up onto the flatbed and reaching down for Knock Out’s crate. He handed it up, listening as Optimus and Ratchet conversed, utterly comfortable and equal with each other. He couldn’t imagine ever talking to a Prime like that.

Breakdown’s feet hit the dirt next to him with a loud thud that made him jump and he whipped around to see him ducking his head sheepishly. “Sorry. You up to taking another load? Ratchet has a lot of things, and we can put some of our stuff up here too.”   
“I can manage, none of it’s that heavy. He doesn’t carry the whole tribe’s things, does he?” he asked as Breakdown stepped away, waving to Ratchet to indicate where they were going.   
“Nah, even he’s not that strong. Everyone carries what they can; for some people like Arcee or the youngsters it’s not very much, others like me or Optimus can take more, so we help out.”

“That makes sense.” he nodded approvingly. It was a relief to know that even when he did have more of his own, he wouldn’t have to struggle with it.

He spent the rest of the morning helping to load up, and eventually there was nothing left of the camp but a patch of well-trampled ground and a few charred patches where fires had been. He looked around, marvelling at how little trace such a large group of bots left, then hurried off to grab his little bedding bundle when Optimus’ horn sounded across the plains and the rest of the tribe started moving to assemble behind him and Ultra Magnus. He fell in next to Breakdown and transformed around his gear, his engine roaring to life and his spark swelling as dozens of others answered. 

It took a little while to get the whole convoy going but slowly they all drew away, a few smaller members of the tribe zipping past Knock Out to scout ahead and the roar of Starscream and his brothers’ engines overhead.    
**_“Keep a steady pace, don’t try to rush too much and you’ll be fine.”_ ** Breakdown commed to him as they drove off.   
**_“Are we going a long way?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Yeah, but trust me, it’s gonna be so worth it.”_ **


	22. Chapter 22

**_“Breakdown?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Yeah?”_ **

**_“I’ve been wondering… what’s a sparkling?_ **

Breakdown sped up a little to catch up to Knock Out so they could see each other while they commed. 

**_“A sparkling is just a bot who’s not fully grown yet.”_ ** he explained. Probably just a translation he hadn’t figured out yet, he thought.

**_“Fully grown?”_ ** Knock Out slowed a little, the message packed with confusion.    
**_“Well… you know how bots start out small and then get bigger as they get older?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“They do?”_ **

Breakdown’s engine stuttered for a moment. How did Knock Out not know… it had to be a translation issue right?  **_“Didn’t you?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“No… I was built in a factory, I’ve always been this size.”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“What’s a factory?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“It’s a building where lots of things can be made at once.”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Including people?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Not all people. Only the slaves, we’re not…”_ ** He thought he heard Knock Out’s engine skip a few revs while he tried to figure out how to explain,  **_“We aren’t real people, really, our sparks don’t come from Primus, they’re artificial.”_ **

**_“Oh… well, that… you’re a real person! Doesn’t matter where you came from.”_ ** **_  
  
_ **

Knock Out didn’t respond right away, and for a moment he worried that he’d upset him. He wanted to press the matter, try to clarify, but he suspected it would only make things worse, and eventually he did reply.   
**_“So, Hot Rod, Bumblebee, all the other little bots, they’re sparklings? They’re all young?”_ **

Breakdown vented in relief, tried to cover it by speeding up a little bit.   
**_“Yeah. What did you think they were?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“I thought they were just minis. There’s a lot of small bots in the city, they make good servants.”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Oh… and they never get any bigger?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“No, they’re just Hot Rod’s size forever. What about Arcee?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“She’s full grown, two-wheelers are just small. Sparklings tend to have bigger heads and eyes.”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Okay, I thought so. She acts like she has experience.”_ **

**_“Hah, yeah. She’s way older than me. Don’t know exactly how old, but she taught me and Bulkhead how to track when we were little.”_ **

**_“Do you think she’d teach me?”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Everyone wants to teach you everything, it’s always exciting to get a new member of the tribe and you’re unusual because you have so much to learn.”_ **

**_“Well… that’s good. I want to learn.”_ ** **_  
_ ** **_“Good. You’re smart, you can do anything you want.”_ **

Knock Out didn’t reply, but he did drift a little closer and Breakdown thought he seemed to be driving with a little more enthusiasm. He hoped he was pleased by the compliment at least, but he was quiet until they stopped for the night.

They didn’t bother to set up tents, since the night was warm and cloudless. Instead, blankets were unpacked and everyone gathered around a few small fires, close to each other for warmth. Breakdown found himself sandwiched between Knock Out, who had bundled himself up and was nibbling on energon crystals, and Bulkhead, soundly asleep the moment he’d laid down. It was comfortable and familiar, even if he was far too conscious of every little movement Knock Out made. He didn’t seem bothered by the proximity at least, even started leaning into him as he began to doze off. Breakdown supposed he was nowhere near used to such long drives, and he must be utterly exhausted. Surely that was the only reason he would do that? He couldn’t read anything into it.

He slid down a bit, and Breakdown realised he’d fallen asleep entirely. He chuckled softly and carefully moved him to lay down properly so he wouldn’t end up with crimped wires anyway, then settled himself between the other two bots to doze off as well.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a good holiday! Have some violence!

Knock Out jolted awake as a heavy weight settled on his back, but before he could make a sound a hand clamped hard over his mouth. “Easy now, sweetspark.” A voice rasped up against his audial, speaking Kaonite in the rough accent he recognised from meetings his masters had had with underlings. “Don’t you go screaming. Just nice and quiet, yeah? We’re gonna get up, you’re gonna walk away with me, ‘n’ we’ll take you back where you belong, yeah? Just nod.”

He felt frozen, paralyzed with fear as the weight shifted on top of him and the bot grunted with irritation. “Move. Stupid little slut.” He growled, slightly louder, and pulled Knock Out’s head back in a way that made his neck cables screech silently in pain. He wanted to scream, to make some kind of fuss, fight his way free or kick Breakdown awake or  _ something _ , but he was too scared to move and the bot on top of him felt so much bigger than he was. He’d break something vital before he could get any kind of help. He managed a single nod, and the weight on his back eased slightly, sliding back over his aft and legs to pull him up onto his knees. “Better.” 

From here, he could see out across the pile of recharging bots by the faint glow of the fire’s embers. Several others, their eyes all red and gleaming in the dark, stood sentry as he was pulled upright. The tribe’s guards were nowhere to be seen, he realised with a sinking sensation in his tanks. 

A hand snuck across his abdomen and wrapped around him, holding him close to his captor and he closed his eyes, fighting panic. He couldn’t go back, not now. He had to do something.

He couldn’t do anything.

His captor chuckled quietly and nudged him to move, then suddenly shouted in his audial as he was thrown forward, landing hard on his chest with the bigger bot on top of him, only for his captor to be dragged back off of him with a shriek. He scrambled away as the camp started coming alive around him, rolling over and staring wild-eyed as he met the terrified face of an unfamiliar bot and a huge, looming shape dragging him backwards. It took him a moment to realise it was Breakdown, behind the murderous glare.

“Knock Out, run!” He heard the yell before he could really process what was happening, and he nearly went flat on his face before he got upright, ducked under the arm of another assailant, tripped over someone who was sitting up to see what was going on and went crashing to the ground again. Behind him, his first captor’s scream was cut off abruptly with a wet crunch. He didn’t dare to look back.

A hand dragged him up and he lashed out with his claws on pure instinct, barely missing Starscream’s face as he reared back. “It’s me you fool! Take this!” he shrieked and thrust a staff into Knock Out’s hand. 

“What, but…” 

“I don’t expect you to fight, just defend yourself.” He glanced up, wings hiking up high over his back, then launched himself over Knock Out with a blast from his engines and threw himself at another bot behind him. Knock Out could only turn and stare as the usually elegant jet snarled and ripped into their assailant with his talons, making an awful, feral noise that he hoped he would never hear again.

He didn’t have a chance to gape at him for long as another red-eyed shape came at him in the dark, the glowing end of a weapon pointed at him, and he swung at him out of pure desperation. The bot ducked, but he succeeded in smacking the gun away from him and it gave him enough confidence to duck in close and swing the other end of the staff into his face just as he’d been taught. He went staggering back with a yell and Knock Out heard a furious scream, took a moment to realise it was coming from him as he surged after him. How dare these bots attack his home? His friends! His family! Him! 

He got in another vicious blow with the staff and the bot went down, limp on the ground. His spark singing, Knock Out turned to see Breakdown taking on two of the invaders by himself, the smaller harrying him while the larger locked weapons with him. He barely thought about it, just sprinted back towards him and swung at the smaller bot, catching him in the spoiler and making him hiss in pain. He turned to him and Knock Out sprang back, his fuel lines going cold for a moment as they locked eyes, the other bot’s face marred by an awful, gouged scar that left him with a permanent sneer that looked nightmarish in the low light. The scarred bot raised his weapon and revved his engine, but before he could do anything else Breakdown’s hammer collided with his head and sent him flying to crash into the ground twenty feet away. He barely even paused before swinging back around to engage the bigger bot, and now it was Knock Out’s turn to harry, to try and distract his foe. 

It worked, but not quite how he hoped. The other bot kicked Breakdown square in the abdomen, forcing him backwards, then turned and charged at Knock Out. He scrambled back, but wasn’t fast enough and was bowled over and scooped up under her arm as she started running, shouting to her comrades that she had the target, to disengage. He struggled in her grip, but her arm was bigger around than his waist and there was no way he could pull free. 

Fighting panic, he twisted around and jammed his claws into the exposed wiring in the crook of her elbow, and he felt something snap and she shrieked in pain. Her grip loosened and he dropped sharply, but she didn’t let him go. He snarled at her in the tribal tongue and she ignored him, just hefted him higher with a wince and kept running. 

The only warning he got was a shadow across the path before Bulkhead slammed into her, narrowly avoiding crushing Knock Out between them. She didn’t let go even when they were all thrown to the ground by Bulkhead’s momentum, and it was all he could do not to be crushed under one bot or another as they rolled, Bulkhead’s mace barely missing his head as the two tried their level best to kill each other. He heard the roar of a powerful engine before something slammed hard into the pile of bodies and threw him free, and he looked up to see Breakdown transform and bring his hammer down into the fray with a roar. 

He scrambled away, vents roaring, and the city bot tried to go after him but Bulkhead was on top of her and she was having to fend off Breakdown as well, and she shouted for one of her comrades, but there was no response. Away from that battle the rest of the camp seemed remarkably quiet all of a sudden, and eventually even that stilled, the city bot giving up and going limp when she realised she was defeated. Knock Out looked around, seeing the same story repeated a couple of times over, members of the tribe pinning their assailants. Glowing pools of energon lit up the night here and there, and there were far too many bots laying far too still for his liking, others nursing injuries or helping wounded friends to their feet. It had all happened in only a couple of minutes, he realised.

It had happened because of him.

His legs seemed to turn to gel and he sank down to the ground, hands shaking. He’d dropped his staff at some point, but had no idea where. As the surge of energy wore off he realised that there was energon dripping down his abdomen, though he had no idea of the source, and one of his fans was rattling strangely. He almost didn’t care. 

He didn’t even raise his head when he saw Starscream’s heeled feet approaching him, not until the long legs folded and the Vosian’s face came into view, peering at him. Unhurt, he noted with some relief. “Good, you’re alright. Mostly alright. Come on.” He said, gently offering his hand and waiting until Knock Out actually took it before pulling him up. 

People were looking at him as Starscream led him to sit by one of the firepits, his back to a rock, and draped a blanket around his shoulders. “Stay there, alright?”   
“Yes sir.” He mumbled, his processor on autopilot, and Starscream stared at him for a moment before shaking his head.   
“None of that. I’ll be back.”    
  
Over the next few minutes, more bots were led or found their way to huddle around him, sparklings and elderly and those who had been wounded in the fight but didn’t need immediate attention. He saw Ratchet running around, his white plating distinctive in the dark and his eyes dim with tiredness but his stride indomitable and determined. Breakdown didn’t appear though, and Knock Out could only hope he was okay. 

Optimus appeared after what felt like hours, kneeling down in front of him with a slight creak that caught his attention and made him snap his gaze upwards. “My Prime.” He breathed, not wanting to wake the sparkling that had fallen asleep against him.    
“It’s alright, Knock Out. All is calm now.”   
“Was… was anyone badly hurt.” 

Optimus’ mouth tightened slightly and he couldn’t help but duck his head, old instinct telling him to expect a strike or a harsh word. It never came. “We… lost a few friends, tonight. It could have been far worse. But now we need to know why. Will you come with me?”   
“Yes sir.” He said, his tank dropping down into his feet as he carefully gathered himself and extricated himself from the huddle. Optimus turned and he followed, his head down as he tried not to look around, terrified of who he might see lying still and greying in the dirt.

A few others were waiting by a different firepit; the imposing shape of Ultra Magnus, Breakdown’s more welcoming bulk, and a black and white bot that Knock Out had never spoken to before whose face seemed set into a permanent scowl. “Good, you brought him. What on Cybertron was that, Knock Out?”   
He flinched back, and Optimus subtly put himself between them. “Easy, Prowl. This is not his fault.”   
“They were after me.” He said quietly, shaking his head, and his voice cracked just a little. “One of them said. They came to take me back to my master, to the city.”    
“Breakdown thought as much.” Ultra Magnus remarked. “It seemed reasonable, since they went for you first. If they only wanted to hurt the tribe, they would not have stopped at killing our sentries.”

“They failed. This is the most important thing. And we have prisoners.” Optimus added, his resonant tone drawing attention even without raising his voice. “We will question them in the morning. They will answer for the deaths of our family.”   
“How many?” Knock Out swallowed, unsure he wanted to know, but he had to. He had to know what he was responsible for, even if he couldn’t meet the eyes of any of the bots looking at him. 

“Three so far. Windcharger, Seaspray and Cliffjumper. Four others seriously injured. And two of them got away, possibly more.” Prowl informed him, his arms folded across his chest. Knock Out looked down, feeling his eyes threatening to leak. He didn’t dare cry in front of these bots, not when they had far more reason to be upset than he did. He was new here, barely knew anyone except for Breakdown and Starscream, who were both fine.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t know they would come…”   
“This isn’t-” Breakdown started, and stopped when Prowl gave him a look. Optimus continued.    
“This is not your fault, Knock Out. They came for you, but not because of you. Someone sent them, correct?”   
“Yes.”   
“Then they are responsible for this. There will be repercussions. We will find a way. But for tonight, we must rest and recover. Tomorrow we will mourn our lost and move on before more of them come, if we are all in agreement?”

There was general nodding from the others, though Knock Out didn’t dare give an opinion. He wasn’t important, he was just a threat to the tribe, and he felt his tanks churning in disgust at himself. How could he have ever thought he deserved such a wonderful life as they had offered? He was a slave, barely a person, and he would never be anything else. He missed Optimus dismissing everyone, until Breakdown reset his vocaliser beside him and made him jump.   
  
“Sorry. Are you okay? Were you hurt?”   
“Were you?”   
“Just a few scratches and dents, nothing major. You didn’t answer though.” He dared to glance up, and the concern in Breakdown’s eyes was almost enough to tip him over into crying. He shook his head.    
“I hurt all over, but I can’t find where I’m leaking from.” He admitted as the others dispersed from around the firepit. “It’s not much energon though, I think I’m okay.”   
“If that changes, you tell me, alright?”    
“Mmm.”   
“Good. I’d better go help Ratchet, will you be alright watching sparklings?”   
“I can do that.” He nodded. Better than being left alone with his own thoughts. Breakdown gave his shoulder a squeeze and let him go to head back to the cluster of little bots he’d been sat with before. A few who had been closer to the fighting were huddled together, and seemed happy to have even such an inexperienced mature bot with them, but most seemed to have fallen deep into recharge now that the chaos and noise had died down. Did they know that anyone had died, Knock Out wondered. Did it weigh heavy on their sparks, too? 

He didn’t recharge the rest of the night, just huddled with the sparklings feeling useless. His fan still rattled, and he was beginning to suspect something in the mechanism was bent, but he didn’t want to make any kind of fuss when three bots were dead and so many more had been hurt defending him. Ratchet no doubt already had too much to do.


	24. Chapter 24

Killing people always weighed heavy on Breakdown’s mind, even if it was entirely justified, and he didn’t sleep at all even after all the injured were cared for and stable. The sun rose slowly above the plain and he looked to it with bleary, dim eyes. He ached, both from the blows he’d received and spending the whole night hunched up against a rock failing to rest. But with the dawn came grief and the harsh reality of what had been lost. 

He looked over to the tree where they had laid out the bodies of their fallen friends. A few of the survivors had already gathered there despite the early hour, and his spark clenched when he spotted Arcee, curled over a battered grey frame that still carried traces of red, the winglets on her back shaking with misery. He watched Bulkhead approach her cautiously, then think better of it and go sit by Seaspray instead. 

Slowly, the rest of the camp began to rise and gather around the bodies, those who had been the closest with them allowed to push through to the front. Nobody dared to try to move Arcee away. Breakdown pushed himself up and dragged his eyes away from the assembling group for a moment, looking around for Knock Out. 

He found him huddled up where he’d been left with the sparklings, his knees drawn to his chest and his head rested on his arms. He was alone, the youngsters already run off back to their creators. “Hey, you coming? Everyone should be involved with this.” He said, spark heavy. He didn’t blame Knock Out for this, of course not, but he hurt and he was exhausted and he  _ was _ angry, so angry. How dare the city think they could attack them like this? Knock Out looked up at him, his eyes unevenly dim.

“If I would be welcome…”   
“Of course you are. You’re part of this tribe now, you’re family.” He said, offering a hand to help him up. He was unusually cool to the touch, and he thought he heard an odd rattle but it was intermittent enough that he wasn’t sure. 

“I’m coming.” Knock Out nodded, his voice flat and quiet.

The funerals were as expected; Optimus spoke about each of the fallen, telling stories of their lives that he felt best showed their talents and their personalities, spoke about those who loved them and how they had died trying to protect their family. Breakdown knew the truth but kept quiet; each had been attacked from behind, major fuel lines cut and left to bleed out in the dirt. They had never stood a chance. But they would be remembered as heroes, and he preferred the story to the truth. They had been friends, and his spark felt like it had been replaced with lead as Optimus talked. 

They were buried beneath the tree, their names carved into its surface and piles of stones placed to mark the spots, and each member of the tribe took the time to say a few words of goodbye, some trying to hide their tears while others cried openly. Arcee was the last to leave, spending the time while the others packed up the camp by the graveside, all the fire and confidence gone from her. Even once she joined them she was silent and transformed without speaking to anyone, racing off in her alt to scout ahead for any dangers. Breakdown understood, though he couldn’t say he had ever experienced anything so awful as the loss of a mate.

Knock Out too was quiet, keeping close to him with Bulkhead flanking his other side as they drove rather than trying to keep up with the other speedsters up front as he had when they had first set out. 

They set more guards that night, the Vosians flying a perimeter around the camp to support the sentries on the ground, but the night was quiet even if nobody really rested easy. He was woken a few times by Knock Out shifting restlessly near him or revving his engine in his sleep. Nightmares perhaps, trying to defrag and process what had happened, but he didn’t ask, just gently woke him if it got loud enough to disturb anyone else. He seemed grateful for it, though every time he flinched away from the touch on his shoulder and it broke Breakdown’s spark to see him so afraid. 

The next morning the rattle was back and it sounded worse, and Breakdown finally had to say something. “Knock Out?”   
“Hm?” 

“Does your vent hurt?” He regretted it immediately as Knock Out tensed visibly, his plating flattening down.

“No. Why?”

“I can hear it rattling. It might be nothing but if the fan is damaged it could get very bad very fast, better to fix it before that happens.” He explained, keeping a distance from him while he packed up his bedding to move on. Knock Out was quiet, and when he glanced up he was watching him warily. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, but I’m worried.”   
“Do we have time?”   
“It won’t take long, and other people will need their wounds checked as well before we go. Please?”

He sighed, the rattle more pronounced, and nodded. “It hurts a little, it feels like something is scraping on the inside when it spins up.” He explained, his voice carefully guarded. Breakdown felt his spark tighten a little.   
“Okay, hold still” He said, dropping the blanket bundle he’d just finished rolling up and dropping to his knees so he could see better, a tiny torch pulled from his subspace to shine within the vent. 

At least it turned out to be easy to fix; a bearing knocked slightly askew when he’d fallen that could be prodded back into place with a fine tool without taking any casing off, though Knock Out winced when he inserted it.   
“Sorry, I know it feels weird.”   
“Yeah. Invasive…”   
“Sorry. There, done.” A little click, and he stood up and backed away from him, watching while he patted his chest. No more rattle, at least. “Feel better?”   
“Still sore, but no more scraping at least.”

“Your self-repair will take care of that, now the casing isn’t getting knocked all the time. Ready to go?”   
“Yeah.”   
“Let me know if you need anything?”   
“Sure.” 

Knock Out gathered up his things and transformed and Breakdown followed suit, but as they headed out again he was still certain that something was wrong.


	25. Chapter 25

He held out for two nights, but there was only so much Knock Out could take. The tribe’s grief was all around him, in Arcee’s silence and the dim eyes of certain others, the subdued conversations around the fire and the tension in the stances of the sentries they posted. They were expecting another attack, though any conversations in that vein stopped when he came within range. He heard anyway, and he knew what people living in fear looked like well enough to spot it, and it was driving him mad to see them so afraid because of him. 

It didn’t matter what Optimus had said. They would never have been attacked if he wasn’t here. Three bots would still be alive if he’d never joined them. 

He couldn’t let that happen again.

He waited until everyone was recharging before carefully slipping out of his blankets, cutting his engine back as far as he could and dimming his biolights to their lowest, only his eyes lit to guide the way as he stepped over and around the press of bodies. He kept as low as he could, stealthy as he could be with his bright colours, but somehow he made it to the edge of the camp unnoticed. He supposed the sentries were looking outwards, and they were easy to see and avoid from this side, perched on rocks or leaned in the shadows of trees with their weapons at the ready. He slipped past them with what seemed like far too little difficulty.

He paused in the shadow of a tree, opening his vents for some cool air and breathing a sigh of relief. That was far easier than he expected. Hopefully nobody would notice he was gone until morning, and he’d be well away.   
  
“Lovely night for a walk, isn’t it?”   
  
He just barely stifled a yelp at the sudden voice, coming from just above and behind his right shoulder, and he whipped around to find Starscream watching him with a feigned casualness he was far, far too familiar with. His plating flattened and it was all he could do not to shrink back away from him.   
“Yes… I was… just stretching my legs, you know? After so long in alt today? I’m not used to it yet.” He said, unconvincing even to his own audials as he backed up a step.   
“Of course, I understand, I was much the same when I first arrived.” Starscream remarked airily, examining his claws. “Where exactly were you planning to go? I should probably come with you, safety in numbers you know? Especially with you being such a target.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I wasn’t going far, just… around.” Starscream was staring at him and it was so, so intimidating. He let the silence drag out far too long, them just shrugged with a flick of his wings.   
  
“Alright then. You can go, of course, nobody’s going to force you to stay with us.” He gestured off towards the wilds. “But if you want to kill yourself there’s easier ways to do it.”   
He swallowed, his spark squeezing in its casing. “That’s not… I can’t let this happen again. If I’m not here they won’t attack the tribe again.”   
“Maybe so. Or maybe they come for you and tear the camp and its inhabitants apart looking for you. Either way, you’d be too dead to care I suppose. It just seems a waste, after all the effort and attention they’ve put into getting you back on your feet. It’s almost like they care about you.”

He couldn’t think of a comeback for that, just looked away, and Starscream apparently took that as a cue to continue. “And before that, they’re not just going to pack up and move on if someone’s missing. They’ll look for you. They’ll stay here for days, it’ll get so  _ dull  _ flying around trying to find you. I suppose I could just tell them you left of your own accord, but I’m not sure I want to see Breakdown cry quite like that. He’d be distraught. Never forgive himself for whatever he imagined he’d done to scare you so badly.”   
  
His gaze snapped up to Starscream’s, a jolt of anger spurring him. “Don’t. This isn’t his fault, it’s mine! Don’t you… don’t you dare tell him it’s his fault!” He said, then realised he’d raised his voice and shrank back a bit, expecting anger. The grin Starscream met him with disarmed him completely. 

“You’re not the broken creature he rescued anymore, are you?” He purred, letting his hand fall and facing him properly, cocking his head in challenge. “You would rather die than go back to that hellhole of a city, wouldn’t you?”   
  
He wanted to argue, wanted to say that he’d rather go back than let the tribe be harmed, but that was the point wasn’t it? They were his tribe now. His  _ family _ . Starscream took a step towards him and he held his ground, meeting his eyes and managing not to flinch at the clawed hand lighting gently on his shoulder. “Me too. So do what I did. Learn to fight. Learn to defend them. If you’re so willing to die for them, then live for them, and we’ll do the same for you.”

The moment stretched, a strange sincerity in Starscream’s eyes that he wasn’t sure he’d seen before, and then he nodded and broke the contact, shifting out from under his hand. For a moment he almost turned and bolted off into the wilds, but he knew Starscream was right. He vented hard. “I’m going back to bed.”   
“Good. Rest well, Knock Out.” Starscream looked so satisfied he almost wanted to slap him, but he settled for just walking past him back towards the camp, pausing just beyond the tree.   
“Starscream?”   
“Hmm?”   
“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

He headed back towards the dimming firelight, Starscream’s engines sounding behind him as he took off into the sky to continue his patrol. One of the other sentries jumped to her feet as he approached her, her weapon ready, but she relaxed when she saw it was only him even if she did look a little confused to see him. She warned him not to wander off on his own before gesturing him back in, and he went with a mumbled apology.

Breakdown at least didn’t seem to have stirred while he was gone, and he slipped back into recharge relatively quickly, his thoughts strangely at peace with this new purpose in them. He couldn’t run from this anymore, couldn’t pretend the city couldn’t touch him out here, but he could fight it. With their help, he could fight for his freedom.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey everyone sorry for missing last week, I'm in the process of buying a house so shit's a bit wild at the moment especially on the weekends.
> 
> Also I got really into Destiny 2 so that's been a bit distracting.

The rest of the journey was mercifully uneventful as far as Breakdown was concerned. Either the city bots didn’t seem inclined to try again or their added security had scared them off, and Knock Out perked up as well, which was a great relief to him. The last thing he wanted was for him to feel guilty about people trying to hurt him. The long days of travel didn’t leave much time for talk or much else, but some of the younger bots seemed to find time for sparring in the evenings and Knock Out watched with rapt attention. A small mercy, because it meant he never saw Breakdown watching him in the firelight, captivated by how cute he was when he was struggling to stay awake.

The flat lands of the plains soon ceded to a steady incline covered in scrubby bushes and trees, which in turn rose into rocky, grassy hills that seemed to go on forever, and as they got steeper all but the most agile of them and the fliers had to switch to root to navigate the steep, narrow passes, the tribe’s possessions distributed so that Optimus and Ultra Magnus could manage the climb. The sparklings seemed to have no difficulties at all, hopping from rock to rock and scrambling up cliffs with boundless energy despite the concerned calls of their creators. They could feel the excitement beginning to brew within the tribe, and Breakdown couldn’t blame them. He remembered being like that, knowing what was to come. 

Knock Out was beginning to flag as they approached the crest of the final hill, his head down and his vents running hard as he trudged along beside Breakdown, but he seemed determined to keep up and refused any offers of help, though his knees and hips were beginning to creak with fatigue. It would be worth it, and Breakdown wanted to tell him, but he didn’t want to spoil the surprise so he just assured him that they were almost there, and the relief on his face made him smile.

They crested the final hill just as the dusk was beginning to set in, the sunset shooting gold and crimson across the sky as the valley opened up beneath them and they could finally gaze down on their destination. Murmurs of appreciation came from all around, and Breakdown hid a grin as Knock Out gasped audibly beside him.

Before them lay a valley cupped between two mountains, a broad river flowing sluggishly through it and out through the crack between the mountains. Streams of energon fed into it, seeping from cracks in the ground and trickling down to join the flow where they dissolved into mere shimmers in the water, and the occasional flash of some aquatic creature caught like a flicker of gold. The ground around was lush with grasses and flowers and peppered here and there with huge, grand trees in shades of copper and gold, and everywhere between them the ground seemed to shimmer with the light of thousands of tiny stars in a dozen different colours. 

He tore his gaze away from it to look at Knock Out, standing stunned and staring as though he’d never seen anything so beautiful, completely oblivious as the rest of the tribe started filtering down the hillside towards the river. “Amazing, isn’t it?” He asked, and Knock Out jumped and glanced at him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“It is. I’ve never seen anything like it… where are we?” He asked, unable to actually hold Breakdown’s gaze because he was too busy trying to drink in the valley below. Breakdown couldn’t blame him, really. 

“It’s called Primus’ Palm. I was born here.” He said, then felt like he needed to amend, “I mean, we all were. It’s a hot spot, do you know about them?”   
He nodded. “Every city is built around or near one, but I’ve never seen one. Are… are all the lights new sparks?”

“Yeah! We come here every year, but it never stops being gorgeous. We’re a little late this year, but it should be fine. Just means that we might not run into the same other tribes.”   
“There’s others?”   
“Yeah, it’s not just ours. Come on, getting down the hill is way easier than getting up.” He smiled, heading a few steps down and offering a hand to help him down the rocks, and he only smiled more when Knock Out accepted it.

It was a well-worn path, wide enough for several people at once, and they soon caught up to the tail end of the tribe as they made their way down. They didn’t get far, however, before Knock Out froze next to him, staring out across the valley. It took Breakdown a moment to see what he’d spotted; massive wings, a serpentine body and horned head swooping down from one of the mountains, arcing through the valley and up towards them. A cry went up among the tribe as it soared over them, twisting around to land at the top of the hill behind them. The Predacon looked down at them with burning eyes. Familiar eyes, Breakdown realised, and they narrowed in recognition at him. Knock Out pressed against him, his vents running hard and all his plating clamped down, and Breakdown gently put him behind him. “It’s okay” He whispered, “He won’t attack us here.” 

He vented hard, and bowed. “Predaking. It’s an honour to see you here.” He said. The Predacon cocked his head at him, great horns flashing in the sunset, then nodded. His mandibles twitched, then he transformed with a loud clatter. Breakdown was very aware that everyone was looking at him, but he could only focus on one bot. Even in his bipedal form, he still towered over any bot Breakdown knew, even Optimus, and regarded him with a regal air. 

“You will forgive me for not knowing your name, warrior. I remember only your hammer striking me.”   
“I apologise for that. We thought the bots you were attacking were ours.”   
“You need not apologise, it was an excellent fight.” Breakdown thought he even saw him smile for a moment, though it might have been a trick of the light. Predaking stepped forward and he felt Knock Out flinch behind him as his hand came up, but it was a gesture he knew and he clasped the Predacon’s hand, mindful of how the claws nearly engulfed his own fingers. It wasn’t exactly a usual feeling for him to be loomed over so. “A worthy opponent is a fine thing. Perhaps I would take you as a mate if we met again, were I not accounted for.”

Breakdown felt his face heat for a moment, and the Predacon’s deep laugh made the ground vibrate as he stepped away. “But it seems you have one of your own, anyway. He is pretty, albeit too small and frail for my preference.”    
“I what- oh!” He felt Knock Out go very still against his back, “Oh, no, uh, we’re not… we’re um...” What  _ were _ they? Bad time to think too hard about it, so he just said the first thing that came to mind, “friends. We’re friends.” 

“I see.” Predaking didn’t look convinced, but by then Optimus had made his way back up the path and he was distracted with the formalities inherent to a meeting of two tribe leaders, such as Predaking’s scattered pack counted as a tribe. Breakdown vented a sigh of relief and shuffled away, keeping Knock Out safe in front of him.   
  
“That was…”   
“Yeah, that was the one. It’s okay, this is a sacred place. Nobody would dare harm another bot here.”   
“But it’s totally fine that he attacked before?” Knock Out looked betrayed, his eyes wide and scared.   
“No, it’s not. But… he hates city bots, and he’s fairly justified in it. They all but wiped his people out millenia ago, so the stories go. He was the last, he’s built them back up from nothing. We’re  _ safe  _ here, I promise.” He met his eyes, trying to be as earnest as he could, show him how sure he was of this. Being attacked here, in this place of birth and growth, was unthinkable. Knock Out sighed, and though his face was still tense he nodded.

He was quiet for a while, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “So… would you have accepted? If he’d taken you as a mate?”   
Breakdown blinked, surprised at the question. “I… why do you ask?”   
“Just curious. You- you don’t have to answer, it’s fine, really, stupid question…” Knock Out’s fans whirred and he looked away quickly, and Breakdown couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Nah, it’s fine. He’s… really something. But he’d have to carry me everywhere, I could never keep up with him. Besides, I like taking care of people.” Among other things, but telling Knock Out that his type tended to be smaller than him and fast was bound to spook him. “I don’t think Predaking really needs anyone to take care of him.”

“Oh.” Did he sound relieved, or was that wishful thinking? He smiled, at least, and that was lovely. “You’re probably right. And you do take pretty good care of everyone.” 

“Yeah… well, it’s my job.” He waved it off, trying to hide how much the compliment pleased him. And how much he’d love to take care of Knock Out, if only he would let him. “Look, that’s where we usually camp, down by the river. There’s always a clear spot there for some reason.” 

Some of the tribe had already made it there and begun to set up their tents near one of the little energon flows, a small fire already started to mark the spot. They picked up the pace a little, Knock Out seeming to find some reserve of energy now that the end of their journey was in sight. As they got closer the path began to meander through the field of sparks, and Breakdown couldn’t help but smile as Knock Out was distracted by them, peering at every one they passed with absolute fascination. 

Some of them were only little flickers of light nestled within the plants and the dirt, but most gave some kind of indication of what they would one day be, the outlines of small bodies visible in the ground around them, the impressions of wings or tyres or claws giving hints to their forms. A few were almost fully developed; nearly perfect, tiny sparklings resting within the ground, their spark chambers still open to the sky while they finished the last few days or weeks of development and their colours bright among the silvers and browns of the foliage. They even had to step over the leg of one who had grown too close to the path, a faint footprint visible in their paintwork where somebody months before hadn’t been so careful.

The sparks petered out well away from where the camp had been set up, and the ground there was flattened and cleared of plant life in a way that suggested regular use. By now most of the good spots had been claimed, but they found a place near the edge for their tent, squashed between Bulkhead’s and a mated pair and their sparkling. At least the little one was very keen to help them set up, chattering excitedly to Knock Out and insisting that  _ she _ explain how to extend the poles to him, while her creators looked on with slight embarrassment. 

He was pretty good with sparklings, Breakdown found himself thinking as he helped, albeit clearly a little bit lost. Patient, at least, until she tried to actually touch him, but even then he only flinched rather than anything more dramatic. They did eventually manage to get everything set up and all their belongings inside, despite the sparkling’s help.   
  
“Will you be alright setting up in here?” Breakdown asked as they ducked inside. “I gotta help Ratchet with the healers’ tent.”   
“I’ll be fine. I just have to inflate these, right?” He said, holding up a flattened cushion.    
“Yeah, then make up the berths. You can leave my stuff in the box, I’ll put that away later.”    
“No problem.” Knock Out smiled at him, setting his spark all aflutter. “You go help the old bot, I can do this.” He said, only hesitating afterwards when he realised maybe that was rude, and he relaxed immediately when Breakdown laughed.    
“Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll grumble for days. I won’t be back too late, promise.” He said with a smile, then headed back out as Knock Out waved to him. It felt rude, leaving him to it, but he looked very comfortable as he knelt in the middle of the tent and started unpacking their bedding. Like he was home, almost.

Breakdown smiled at the thought. Sentimental perhaps, but it warmed his spark as he turned and headed deeper into the camp.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE THERE BE SMUT. You have been warned.

Tonight was the night. It had to be, before Knock Out’s nerve failed. The first night at a new camp seemed like a good time to change things, to take a vital step, and he was ready. 

He vented hard, arranging himself in Breakdown’s berth, cushions and blankets drawn around him into a comfortable nest. The nomad would be back any moment and he had to get this perfect, had to make himself as appealing as possible. Somehow the thought of Breakdown refusing him was almost as frightening as the idea that he might hurt him. But no. Breakdown had never hurt him, had never even touched him without checking first. Why would this be different?

He settled back on the pillows, letting them envelop his wheels and support his back, and let his fans whirr for just a moment to cool him off before he spread his thighs and slid his hand down his chassis. He had to stop at his hips, eyes closed, and vent steadily for a few moments before he could bring himself to touch the newly-repaired covers of his array. Yes, the repairs had taken fully and completely healed by now, but they still felt new and strange and willingly opening up even to himself now that he had them back was a strange sensation. 

It took longer than he liked, caressing the seams with his fingertips, to persuade the covers to slide aside, and when his fingers brushed softer material beneath he had to fight the urge to clamp his legs shut. It didn’t have to hurt, he reminded himself. Maybe, a traitorous voice in his head remarked, he should have experimented on his own a little before he went offering things to anyone, or touching himself in someone else’s berth. 

But no, another, more stubborn part of him insisted. He’d come this far. He’d thought about this; dreamed about it, even! Yes, he had his doubts and it could all go horribly wrong, but if he didn’t try how would he know? Breakdown had kissed him, and it had been amazing, and there was no reason this couldn’t be, too. His fingers slid downwards, over warm, flexible metal, and the gentle touch sent a shiver up his back struts that was completely different from the revulsion he’d previously known. He explored further down, towards the rim of his valve, but too much pressure there was almost sickening and he had to retreat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Surely Breakdown would want that?   
  
He didn’t get time to reconsider. A flare of light got his attention and he froze like a diodeer in headlights, eyes fixed on the frame silhouetted in the light from the tent flap. 

Breakdown stood just as still, amber eyes picked out wide and staring. He must be quite a sight, Knock Out thought dimly; spread out like that, his paint gleaming from the particular care he’d paid it, arranged like a gift among the pillows. Neither of them spoke, at first. Neither dared move. The tent flap fell from Breakdown's fingers, leaving them in the warm dimness of the tent together.

“Knock Out, are you-”

“I want you.” He blurted. He'd practised the words; his grasp of the language was incredibly good now, but he wanted them to come out with the need he felt rather than any trace of fear. Breakdown hesitated, and Knock Out felt his spark sinking as the bigger bot opened his mouth.

“You don't have to do this. To… to pretend. You don't owe me anything.” He said, averting his eyes. Knock Out’s free hand clenched on a blanket and he pushed himself more upright. Maybe if he looked a little less vulnerable, Breakdown would get it.

“I'm not. I'm choosing. And I want you. If… if you want to?” 

At least he didn't flinch when Breakdown moved towards him anymore, though he did go very still when the larger bot sank to his knees on the berth in front of him, watching him intently. Breakdown met his gaze, his eyes bright and molten in the dim light, and his vents cycled slowly. “I've never seen anyone or anything as beautiful as you. Are you… Are you sure about this? You could do better than me.”

“Will you stop if I ask?”

“Of course!”

“Then I'm sure. I trust you.” Knock Out nodded, pushing himself to relax as Breakdown smiled like he'd just given him some wonderful gift.

He hadn't lied, but he still had to fight a flare of fear as Breakdown leaned over him, his bulk looming and threatening to pin him in place. He froze as their lips met, and Breakdown retreated immediately with a worried frown.

“Its okay! You can… you don't have to stop!” He tried to assure him. 

“And you don't have to let me do stuff that scares you. Let's try something else. Stand up?” He sat back on his heels, and Knock Out slowly got to his feet. He did feel a little safer, free to move, and Breakdown waited until he was up before leaning up to offer another kiss.

It was just as electric as the first time, their lips meeting with the faintest crackle of static, and this time Knock Out felt more confident to return it. He was still a little clumsy about it, a little uncoordinated, but Breakdown was patient with him. More importantly, he kept his hands to himself at first and let Knock Out lean in and rest his hands gently on his chest for balance, and only as the kiss deepened, tongues gently brushing against lips, did he lift one massive hand to lay it on his back, just beneath the wheels. He stilled for the briefest moment at the touch, but when nothing hurt and Breakdown immediately lifted his hand away he leaned into it and kept kissing him. One hand slid up to touch Breakdown’s cheek, ever so careful, and the relief when it wasn’t slapped away was tangible. On the contrary, he felt Breakdown’s lips curl up under his, felt himself pulled just a little closer to him.

He didn’t fight it, allowing his plating to press against Breakdown’s warm bulk as the bigger bot’s tongue pressed into his mouth, sending shivers of heat down his back struts and making his fingers twitch against his face. Breakdown pulled back, his fans spinning up, and Knock Out felt like those amber eyes would pull him in, warm him from the inside out. “You okay?”   
“Yes. It’s just strange, not bad.” He assured him, feeling his own plating flaring a little to dump some building heat. “Can… will you do that more? I can get used to it, I think.”    
Breakdown smiled, and he felt warmth deep in his chest. “Yeah. I think I can do that,” he said, leaning in to kiss him again.   
  


It shouldn’t be this easy, Knock Out thought as he ran his fingers along Breakdown’s shoulders, tracing the gaps between armour plates and the deeper scratches in his paintwork. He should be scared, should be hurting, but Breakdown didn’t pressure him into anything more, instead letting him take the lead. It was so different to anything he’d experienced that he couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid; none of his masters had ever kissed him, he’d never even heard of the practise before coming here, and now here he was with this gentle barbarian’s warm tongue exploring his mouth, sending delicious tingling sparks down his back to where his hand rested, a support rather than a trap. 

He let himself get caught up in it, and he wasn’t even entirely sure when it happened that Breakdown laid back, let him straddle his abdomen and stretch up over his ample chest to keep kissing. At some point his spike had unsheathed, and he gasped when its tip brushed against Breakdown’s plating, though the touch didn’t seem to bother the bigger bot at all. Breakdown just huffed a laugh against his mouth, his hand wandering to his hip. “Can I touch it?”   
“Not… not yet.” He pulled back just enough to shake his head, revelling for a moment in the fact that he  _ could _ do that and aggressively crushing the part of his mind that flinched away, expected to be punished. That part was proved wrong, anyway, as Breakdown’s hand moved back to his waist and he kissed him again, still slow and gentle even though heat poured off of both of them, flickers of static crawling where hands touched plating and where Knock Out’s thighs gripped Breakdown’s waist. The bigger bot’s hands were so gentle, even with his fans picking up to a low rumble, and it was becoming easier to just relax under his touch.

At least until he caught the faint ‘snk’ of panels sliding aside, and he couldn’t help freezing up. “Oh, frag, Knock Out I’m sorry-”    
“It’s fine, I can do this. I want you.” He insisted, but his fans buzzed alarmingly and he could feel his shoulder plates shaking, past pain rising unbidden in his mind.    
“No. You’re scared, I can feel you trembling.” He said, reaching up to stroke his back then taking his hand away entirely when he flinched. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”   
“I know.” He made himself scoot back just a little, expecting and dreading the contact with Breakdown’s spike, but Breakdown put a hand on his lower back to stop him.   
“Not if you’re scared like this. I won’t do it. If we’re going to do this, I want it to be good for you.” 

Knock Out averted his gaze and squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt Breakdown shift under him. “Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice low and soft. Knock Out hesitated, then dared to look down into his earnest face. “I want to make you feel good. I don’t need my spike for that. Will you let me?”

“But… what about you?” 

“It’ll be good for me too. I like making others feel good.” He looked so sure, and he’d never lied to him yet, Knock Out thought, his spark pulsating wildly as he considered it. He vented hard, then nodded.   
“Okay. What should I do?”

“Come up here.” Breakdown took his hands off him and beckoned to him, and Knock Out gave him a slightly confused look as he swung his leg back over and shuffled up towards his head. He patted his chest, where it sloped towards his face, and lay back down. “Here. Knees either side of my head, rest your back here.”    
“Wait, but… won’t that put my valve in your face?” That sounded rude. Breakdown grinned at him and he felt a flush of warmth through his systems.    
“Yeah, exactly. Trust me?”

He did, Knock Out decided, and as carefully as he could he swung a leg over him and leaned back against his chest, incredibly aware of how warm his array had gotten, of Breakdown’s vents pouring warm air against the backs of his thighs and the little puffs from his mouth over the sensitive equipment. Big hands steadied him, guiding him down, and he gasped at the first warm brush of a tongue against his exterior node. Electricity seemed to race up his back and he nearly clamped his thighs shut on Breakdown’s head, only just stopping himself.    
“Too much?” Breakdown asked, his voice a little muffled, and Knock Out shook his head.    
“Different. Not bad, you don’t have to stop.” He breathed, biting his lip to avoid rambling too much. That wasn’t attractive, and he didn’t want Breakdown to stop. Breakdown chuckled softly and planted a kiss against the lip of his valve, sending another shiver through his body. 

He’d never felt anything like this before. It didn’t hurt, and for once he found himself trying to move into the touch as Breakdown’s tongue slowly worked over his array, lighting up sensors he didn’t even know he had, didn’t know could feel pleasure. His fingers clutched against Breakdown’s chest and his fans roared, plating flared to dump heat, while his other hand pressed to his mouth to muffle the sounds wrung from him with every stroke. That tongue was relentless, as gentle as Breakdown’s hands but determined to draw pleasure from every circuit, every sensor, while never quite slipping inside him or threatening to enough to spook him. Sparks tingled beneath his plating, charge building up at the base of his spine, and when Breakdowns’ tongue circled his node again he shuddered all over and rocked his hips against his face once before freezing up. That had to be bad, right? Grinding on someone’s  _ face _ ?   
  
Breakdown stroked his hip, nudged him forward again. “It’s okay, it’s good.” He assured him and delivered a firm lick to his node that made him muffle a cry against his hand. “You don’t have to be quiet if you don’t want.”

“What if- ah! If someone hears?”   
“Then they’ll know I’m the luckiest bot in the tribe.” Breakdown smiled against the inside of his thigh, planting a kiss there and leaving it just long enough to let a little charge bleed away before he dove back in, startling a glitched cry from Knock Out’s vocaliser as he arched above him, eyes screwed shut and fans straining. His charge spiralled until he was sure there had to be sparks crackling off of him, his legs trembled under Breakdown’s hands, and after a while he just couldn’t keep quiet no matter how he tried, vocaliser issuing forth staticky moans and whimpers and pleas to not stop, please don’t stop. 

Breakdown seemed to have no intention of stopping. It felt like an eternity and yet no time at all, any thoughts of passing minutes overwhelmed by sheer blissful sensation and a tide of pleasure like he’d never felt before, had never even known was possible. His body was built for the pleasure of others, and yet Breakdown seemed entirely selfless in giving him this, attentive to what made him moan the most and apparently not even caring when his fingertips scraped lines into the paint of his chest.

He couldn’t last. That glorious tongue pushed him higher and hotter with every swipe and circle of his node and it felt as though his processor might melt, but if this was how he died he was remarkably okay with it, until the floodgates snapped and drowned him in a sea of pleasure that whited out his vision and shorted his vocaliser. He arched, mouth open silently and his fingers digging in hard enough to dent, and Breakdown  _ kept going  _ until he managed to gasp for him to stop. He’d never thought something could feel  _ too _ good, but everything was oversensitive and it was all he could do not to clamp his thighs shut on his head again. 

Breakdown drew away immediately, as much as he could with Knock Out sat on him, and he looked down to see the bigger bot peering up at him and licking his lips, and his fans nearly cut out at the sight, overstressed by the exertion.   
“Good?” He nodded and swayed, and Breakdown’s hands were on his waist to catch him and help him lay down, warm and strong. The blankets were soft under him as he was laid on them, and it was so, so tempting to let himself slip into recharge, but…   
“What about you?” Breakdown had to want something in return for that. That was how it worked, it had to be, no way he got the most pleasurable experience of his life for free. He barely had the energy left to feel afraid at the prospect, and Breakdown shaking his head was balm enough to crush that.    
“I had a great time, shh.” He said, smiling a little, and Knock Out couldn’t help but smile back, a little unfocused but genuine. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t need anything else.” 

Knock Out managed a little grunt of disbelief, but by that point his eyes were closing as exhaustion overcame him, and he just heard Breakdown’s fond chuckle before he gave himself up to sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry lads, shortest chapter ever! I haven't worked on this for a while, between house stuff and an obsession with Destiny that some of you may have noticed. Still plenty more buffer though and I've got about two scenes left to actually write, one of which is smutty and one of which is really, really important and I've been putting off for... a while.

Breakdown spent a long time watching Knock Out after he fell asleep, ignoring the insistent twitching of his spike so as not to disturb him. He looked so peaceful, and just when Breakdown had considered getting up to go take care of himself elsewhere he’d moved to cuddle into him, and now he was trapped. As far as places to be trapped went, it was a decent one, but his body was getting rather insistent, his mind kept replaying how Knock Out had looked arched above him, plating flared and eyes bright with charge...

No, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. And Knock Out was still right there, in his berth. He had to take care of that first. Carefully and oh so slowly so as not to wake him, he scooped the smaller bot into his arms and, as smoothly as he could with his open panels making walking difficult, he carried him back over to his own berth and settled him among the pillows. He made a small, disgruntled noise when he was put down and Breakdown froze, but he didn’t wake up and Breakdown’s vents let out a little whoosh of relief as he arranged blankets over him and backed away, back to his own berth. It was still warm from their exertions, and his armour shuddered with excitement as he dragged a blanket over himself and turned his back on Knock Out. Staring at him while he got off would just be weird, even if he could still taste his charge on his tongue...

He finished almost embarrassingly quickly, or perhaps that was a blessing. 


	29. Chapter 29

Knock Out woke late the next day, stretching out in his berth. He didn’t think he’d ever been quite so comfortable in his entire life, and it took him a while to figure out where the strange feeling of contentedness came from. Memory of the night before dripped back in slowly; the hotspot, the fields of sparklings waiting to emerge, Breakdown. Breakdown’s mouth on his face, on his chestplates, on his…

He sat upright suddenly, a pillow falling down from where it had gotten wedged between his wheels. Hands shaking, he lifted the blankets and looked down. Nothing looked different; his covers were back in place, nothing hurt, nothing was broken. He lay back down with a huff of warm air from his vents. It really had been as wonderful as he’d remembered, and clearly nothing had happened to him afterwards that he didn’t remember.

Had Breakdown seen him do that, he suddenly thought with a flush of embarrassment, but a quick glance to the other side of the tent revealed that Breakdown had already left for the day, and judging by the angle of light through the tent that wasn’t unusual. Slowly, he rolled over and pulled himself out of the berth, noting a slight shakiness to his legs that he hadn’t quite expected. He supposed they had been shaking fairly badly the night before…

No, he needed to stop thinking about  _ that _ , or he’d spend all day in his berth trying to chase that same feeling. He steeled himself, stood up properly, vented hard and stepped out into the sunshine. 

The valley looked even more beautiful during the day, though the little spark-lights in the ground were harder to see in the places the sun touched. The camp was largely empty, most of its inhabitants scattered out across the valley, some in pairs, some alone. A large group of sparklings had been gathered in the centre of the camp under the care of some of its older members, and Knock Out paused nearby to listen while one of them told a story. It sounded like one he’d encountered from datapads in his masters’ libraries, the Fall of Megatronus, but to hear it framed for young audials and told aloud was far more captivating than the dusty old legend had been.

He hurried off quickly the moment the old bot spotted him, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping even though it was clearly a public event. He passed others sitting by the little energon trickle, drinking directly from it by scooping the fuel in their cupped hands, and he found himself gestured over to try it. It had a sharp, savoury taste and seemed almost thick in his mouth, and one of them chuckled at the face he made.   
“Good, huh? Full of minerals, perfect for growing sparklings.”   
“And old bots looking to feel a bit younger!” His companion remarked, and received a punch in the shoulder for his efforts, which he laughed off. Knock Out chuckled and thanked them, and carried on to the edge of the camp where he could look out over the valley, unsure what was expected here. Everyone seemed relaxed and happy, seemed to feel completely safe. He even spotted a couple tangled up with each other in the grass, and he looked away as he felt his plating heat.  _ Not _ thinking about that.

He finally spotted Breakdown out by one of the massive trees, talking to a pair of bots who seemed to be hanging on his every word. They looked happy at least, but he was more interested in focusing on Breakdown, the shift of his plating, the way the light dappled across his paintwork as it filtered through the leaves. He looked exactly as he always had, but somehow it felt like his perspective had shifted, because now all he could think about was the broadness of his hips, the strength and dexterity of his hands…

Was this normal? Last night had seemed magical, sure, but it couldn’t have actually  _ changed _ anything. Could it? He wanted to go and talk to him, but he seemed busy. Did he even want to talk about what had happened the night before? What would he  _ say _ ? That was good? Thank you? None of it felt right. He sighed to himself and sat down in the grass, careful not to step on any developing sparklings. 

He was there for a while, just watching people go by, before two shadows fell over him and he looked up in alarm to find a pair of startlingly similar bots grinning down at him, one scarlet red and the other a gleaming golden yellow.

“Hey newbie.” The red one said, and the yellow one took over effortlessly   
“Optimus asked us to teach you a few things.”   
“Just self defense, mostly,”   
“But he said it seemed prudent. You’ve already been learning to use a staff?” 

Knock Out blinked, then had to do his best to recover fast enough not to look like a fool. “A little. I’m not very good yet.”   
“That’s fine, we’re really good.” The red one grinned, offering a hand to get him up. He managed to take it with only a little hesitation, though he was very conscious of the contact between them. 

“The best in fact,” The yellow one added. “That’s Sideswipe, I’m Sunstreaker, by the way. Are you coming?”   
He could only nod and follow after them, a little stunned. Did Optimus expect another attack, or was this just a precaution? He supposed that living out here, being able to protect himself would be smart either way.

They headed back towards the camp, where a space had been found and cleared near the centre, where there was no risk of any sparks being stepped on. Sunstreaker tossed him a practise staff which, much to his own surprise, he caught, and Sideswipe squared off with him with another of his own. “Who’ve you sparred with, just Starscream?”   
“Mostly Starscream. A little with Hot Rod and Bumblebee.”   
“Feh, sparklings. They’re decent for their age I guess. I’m gonna come at you, see what you can do, yeah?”   
  
He barely had a chance to agree before Sideswipe lunged at him, far faster than he’d expected, and he threw his staff up just in time to avoid being smacked in the head. “Good!” Sideswipe called as he spun away and came at him from the side, forcing him to defend himself once more. They fell into that rhythm, Sideswipe coming for him and forcing him back, around the circle, while Sunstreaker called tips and corrected him. 

He eventually got tired of being chased and followed up a block with an attempted strike, which the more seasoned warrior caught easily. With a twist of his wrist he spun the staff out of Knock Out’s hands, flicked the end of his own up to stop just under his chin. “Not bad. You’re kind of predictable, but you’ll get better.” Sideswipe grinned, then lowered the staff and let him grab his own. Knock Out darted after it, trying to hide how his plating had flared and his fans were running high. “Stronger, too. Think you’ve gotten tougher since we left, but that’s not surprising. You ever done a journey like that before?”   
“Not under my own power.” He admitted, straightening up so he could keep his eyes on the two warriors. They’d gathered a bit of a crowd, watching from among the tents, but he was more concerned about these two. 

“Huh. You got carried around?”   
“Pretty much. There were bots whose job that was, just letting other people ride inside them.”    
Sunstreaker pulled a face at the thought, brushed imaginary dust off his spotless plating.    
“That sounds awful. Other people tracking dirt all through your interior all the time, ugh.” 

“Dunno, doesn’t sound too awful, letting everyone get inside you.” Sideswipe replied with a wink, then ducked as Sunstreaker threw a spare staff at him. Knock Out looked down quickly, a sudden rush of anxiety catching him in its grasp. The staff felt depressingly insufficient in his hands all of a sudden. 

“You are  _ foul _ , Sideswipe.” Sunstreaker protested. “You’re going to give Knock Out completely the wrong idea about us, honestly.”   
“Only about me. You don’t mind do you?” He looked over, and Knock Out realised he was talking directly to him. He swallowed, decided to try something incredibly brave.   
  
“I’d… rather not talk about that.” he said, hating that his voice shook when he said it. Both of them looked at him, and he expected at least one of them to say something mocking or carry on regardless, but Sideswipe looked  _ guilty  _ of all things and Sunstreaker shook his head.    
“Then we won’t.” He said, and Sideswipe nodded along with him.    
“Yeah. Sorry. Shoulda thought about that, not my strong suit.”   
“Damn right it’s not.”   
“Shut the frag up.” Somehow, Sideswipe managed to make that sound fond. “But… yeah, sorry. You feel up for another round?”   
“Yeah, I can manage more.” It was better than thinking about either o f them trying to get him in their berth. He didn’t know them at all, and besides, the night before had happened. He really should talk to Breakdown about that, he realised, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Sideswipe was coming after him with the staff again and he had to focus.

By the time they were done he was exhausted, slightly dented, but happier. He’d managed to graze the warrior a few times, and Sideswipe was grinning at him. “Yeah, think we’ll leave it there. You did good, go get some fuel and sit down for a while.” He said, and Knock Out managed a smile back.   
“Thank you.”   
“‘S okay, big boss bot gets what he wants.” He shrugged, swinging the staff casually up onto his shoulder and reaching out. Knock Out stared at his hand for a moment before he realised what he wanted, and clasped his hand in his own. He’d seen the gesture before, but hadn’t expected the strength of Sideswipe’s grip. It was only for a moment at least, not long enough for him to feel trapped. “We can do more tomorrow, come find us when you’re ready.” He said as he let him go, and Knock Out nodded and waved them off as they parted ways.

The people who had been watching before had disappeared and been replaced by other curious faces, a few of which he recognised. A few sparklings, fascinated; Arcee, watching with an inscrutable expression while she leaned against a tentpole; and Breakdown, smiling. 

“You’re picking that up pretty quick, never thought you’d want to be a fighter. Uh, no offense.”   
“I don’t. They said Optimus wants me to learn to defend myself. It seems sensible. I’d rather not make it my living though.” He said, rubbing a dent with a wince. No, getting hit was definitely not his preferred pastime. He was careful not to stand too close to Breakdown, aware suddenly of how big he was, how he loomed without trying. A flicker of memory rose unbidden, those huge hands so gentle on his thighs, that mouth put to far better use than a smile, and his fans stuttered and he had to look away from him entirely. 

They really should talk about that.

He was absolutely not going to do that now.

“Still, you did well. Are you… okay?” There was an awkwardness to Breakdown that got Knock Out’s attention, and he dared to look at his face. “I mean… actually, maybe we shouldn’t talk about that in public, never mind.”   
“I’m okay. I’m pretty sure the dents will pop themselves out by tomorrow, right?” He misunderstood deliberately.   
“Oh, yeah. Might be a good idea to rest a bit though, but Ratchet was asking if you were still interested in learning from him, so you should probably go see him sometime.”

He felt his spark leap, eager. “I will! Thank you! I mean, I’ll thank him obviously but thank you for telling me.” He wanted to go see him right now, but his legs ached when he tried to walk in that direction and he realised that was probably not the best idea. Breakdown noticed, being a healer, and moved as if to catch him if he fell. “I’m okay, really.”   
“There’s no rush. Why don’t you go sit by the firepit, old Ironhide is telling stories and he’s got some good ones.”   
“Isn’t that just for sparklings?”   
“Nah, everyone likes a good story. I was gonna go there anyway, if you wanna come?”

Despite, or perhaps because of, their previous activities he found himself wanting to spend time with Breakdown, and he nodded. “Sure.” 

He was right, Knock Out thought as they returned to the tent later that evening. The stories really were fantastic, what of them he’d noticed. He really should have been paying more attention, but he’d been far too caught up with the warmth of Breakdown’s body next to him. Maybe leaning on him had been a bit too forward, but the big bot hadn’t seemed to mind at all. They still needed to talk, of course, but it could wait. He belonged here now, he wasn’t going anywhere, and it felt like they had all the time in the world.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broke my pattern a bit here so you get two Knock Out chapters in a row. I was trying to think of something to go between this and the last one but honestly? Probably would've just felt like filler.  
> Violence ahead.

“Knock Out, do you have a moment?” Ratchet’s soft voice hit his audials and he looked up from the tiny, flickering spark he’d been watching.

“I’m… not really doing anything.” He admitted, standing up to meet him and ignoring the strange pulse of his spark. He was still a little nervous around Ratchet; the old bot was an authority figure and he could be so brusque, it was intimidating. 

“Good. You seem fascinated by these, thought you might want to learn more about their development.”   
He couldn’t help how his eyes lit up at the idea, and he nodded. “If you have time to teach, I’d love to.”   
“Come with me then, and watch your step.” 

He led him across the river and over towards the base of one of the mountains, a spot sheltered by trees where a dozen or so sparks glimmered in the grass. “Now, how much do you already know?”   
  
He thought about it for a moment, watching the coloured lights. “Sparks appear in the hotspots, they form bodies for themselves, then get up and start walking around when they’re ready?” He said, suddenly unsure. It had to be a trick question right?    
“That’s part of the story, yes. And for some, that’s all there is to it, but they’re fairly rare. Maybe one in ten actually ignite in the hotspot.”    
Knock Out frowned slightly, his hand coming up to rub his chestplate. “But… don’t all sparks come from Primus? All real ones, anyway.”

“That… depends how you look at it.” Ratchet said, giving him a look he didn’t know how to interpret before crouching down and brushing away some of the plants. “All sparks can be traced back to the hotspots, but there’s a balance to maintain. Primus puts His ideas out into the world from here, but we combine them in new and interesting ways for Him. The hotspot brings new life, but it must be seeded to keep it going.”   
  
He gestured for Knock Out to join him and he crouched down to look at the spark he was revealing. “This one hasn’t been here very long, it hasn’t started forming a body yet.” He explained. Indeed, there was nothing around it except a small area of disturbed earth, as though…   
“Someone put this here? Buried it?”

“Well observed, yes.”   
“But if it didn’t ignite here then… where did it come from?”

Ratchet didn’t respond right away, just let the plants cover the spark back up again while he thought. “Are you aware of the concept of spark merging?” He asked. Knock Out felt himself draw back.   
“I’ve heard of it. It’s… rare. Dangerous.” He said, folding his arms across his chest protectively. He’d never been made to do it, but he’d heard horror stories of pain and violation. But Ratchet just looked confused.   
“I’m not sure I would say dangerous. But it’s an intimate thing that requires a great deal of trust, yes. You’re baring your very essence to someone, sharing your memories and thoughts with them.” He touched a hand to his own chestplates thoughtfully, then shook his head, “But anyway, the important part of it for this is that when two sparks are merged, there’s a chance for parts of them to remain joined and bud off into a third, new spark. It can be left to incubate within one spark chamber or other, and then once it’s ready it can be removed and planted to allow it to grow.” 

As he spoke, Knock Out watched with a faint horror as his chestplates parted and he reached within. It looked painful to him, and his transformation seams itched in sympathy, but Ratchet seemed unconcerned as he withdrew his hand with something clasped gently in his fingertips.    
“Just… just like that? It’s that simple?” He asked, feeling his voice waver.

“Well, it gets easier with practise.” He said, getting up with a creak of his knees and cradling the little spark in his palm. He held it out to show him, and Knock Out couldn’t help but stare at it, a steady blue glow nestled in his hand. Now he looked closer, the core of it almost seemed to be a tiny crystal, and part of him wanted to reach out to touch it but he didn’t dare. 

“You… you’ve done this before?” 

“Dozens of times. Come, we’d best find a spot for this one.” He held it close and headed off down the slope a little, until he found a clear space behind some trees, where he crouched and dug a little hole with his fingers, just deep enough to cover the spark. “The ground in the hotspot is rich in metals and soaked in energon, it’s the perfect place for these. When we return next year, maybe this one will be ready to emerge.” 

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but for a moment Ratchet sounded more sad and tired than he thought he’d ever heard anyone sound. He almost didn’t dare ask, but be felt he had to.   
“Maybe?”

“Some don’t make it. They flicker and fade, or they produce a body that can’t support life. We don’t know why.” He sighed heavily. “Something encoded incorrectly in the spark perhaps, or just bad luck. I was beginning to suspect the former.” He straightened up and rubbed his chest, wincing, then glanced over at Knock Out with a strange, unreadable expression. “But now I’m not so sure.”   
“What do you mean?” he asked, taking a step back. He thought he saw pain flash through Ratchet’s face and his spark gave a strange twist.   
“I’ve planted dozens of sparks here, Knock Out. Only one of them has ever survived to emergence. We can find our own creations among all these hundreds of sparks because the spark knows itself, it calls to its own parts. I know what that feels like. So imagine my confusion, when I met a bot from a city a hundred miles away and my spark tried to hurl itself at yours.”

He stared blankly for a moment, putting two and two together. The strange tug he felt when he was near Optimus, the same feeling when he was near Ratchet, the bizarre desire to please them both…    
  
No.   
  
He shook his head, backing away. “That can’t be… I… I wasn’t born here, I’ve never been here, I was  _ built _ , my spark isn’t even  _ real _ .” he protested, eyes wide and his spark thrumming in his chest. “You… you can’t have created me, that’s not even… I’m not yours. I can’t be.” 

“Knock Out…”   
“Stay there!” He backed up, flaring his plating in his best attempt to intimidate as Ratchet tried to reach out towards him. To his credit, the healer stopped where he was, held his hands up placatingly.    
“Please, listen to me. I don’t know how you could have ended up in Kaon either. All I know is what my spark tells me.” he said, keeping his voice as low and even as he could. Knock Out could still hear it shake, see the pleading look in his eyes, and for a moment he almost let his guard down. “And I’m so, so sorry that I couldn’t protect you. You should have emerged here, you should have grown up with the tribe. I can’t make that up to you. I just… I wanted you to know that you belong here, that we love you.”

He stayed where he was, his legs feeling locked in place, as Ratchet sighed and looked away, defeated. “I don’t belong to you.” He said softly, after what felt like a far too long pause.   
“No, you don’t. You belong to yourself, that’s not what this means.”    
“Then… what do you want?”   
“Nothing. Perhaps to know how this happened. At most for you to feel… I don’t know. Wanted? Perhaps to understand what was happening to you. You must feel it too.”   
  
He swallowed, nodded hesitantly. It did help to explain a lot. “I just thought it was because Optimus is a Prime. I’ve never been near one,” he admitted. “And you’re… with him?”   
“I am.” Ratchet’s eyes went strangely soft, and he looked very proud of himself, so Knock Out thought.   
“I assumed perhaps that just… transferred.”

“No. Optimus has a draw all his own, but it’s different.” He said. He had relaxed visibly, and Knock Out dared to come a little closer to him. “This doesn’t have to change anything. You seem happy here. That’s all I want, for you to be happy.” 

“I am, I think.” He said, daring a smile.

And, he realised, he really was. He was safe and comfortable, he liked the tribe and its people, their freedom and their way of life. He even liked Breakdown’s tent, soft and warm as it was.

He liked Breakdown. He didn’t dare say that to Ratchet, of course.

“Good. That’s good, I….” Ratchet cut off and frowned, looking off past his shoulder into the trees. Knock Out turned, and his lines ran cold as he spotted a grey-green shape crouching among the trunks. Not one of the bots from the tribe, he was certain. They didn’t carry weapons like the one this bot had strapped across their back. And none of them would do what this one was doing; digging into the ground with a tiny trowel and carefully extracting a fresh spark from its hole.

He watched with horror as the bot carefully transferred the spark to a small box that he stowed in his subspace, then looked up. There was a moment where their eyes locked, where they shared a moment of mutual realisation that they’d been seen. Knock Out froze. The other reached for his weapon.

Ratchet  _ roared.  _ Knock Out had no time to react before the medic charged past him with a snarl of engines and the buzz of some kind of blade unsheathing from his arm, and the next thing he knew the strange bot had to dance back away from him, just as startled by the sudden speed from such a bulky bot. He was unarmed, but he had to do  _ something. _

With the stranger distracted he could hurl himself at his back, grabbing for the pulse rifle strapped there while its owner frantically tried to draw it. They both reached it at the same time, its owner managing to grab the butt of it and swing it up, cracking the barrel into Knock Out’s chin and sending him sprawling. He tried to push himself up, but his head spun and his vision went black around the edges, he swayed and went back down again with a creaky groan. Running feet caught his audials, but he was already wavering and before he could identify where they came from, the world went black.


	31. Chapter 31

The scream from the trees cut through the quiet of the valley like a knife, and everything stopped for just a moment. Breakdown looked up with a frown, then took off running as realisation hit him like a hammer to the face. That was Ratchet. That was Ratchet  _ in pain. _

Others were running too, he realised as he launched himself over a little cluster of sparks and dodged around another to avoid stepping on them, but he was closest and he spotted a flash of orange and white as he burst through the first line of trees. His hand was already transforming into his hammer as he shouted Ratchet’s name, and got a furious “Get him!” in response. It confused him for a moment, but then something slammed into him in a dead run and bounced off, sending him staggering.

It took a moment to recognise the shape of another bot scrambling to his feet among the fallen leaves, his hand nearly slamming down on a bared spark, and Breakdown lunged to grab him before he could do any damage. 

It was a short scuffle; the green-grey bot was half his size and the strange weapon across his back had been damaged when he’d fallen, and it took almost no effort for him to rip it from his hands and pin him on the ground, face down in the dirt. He heard laboured venting and looked up to see Ratchet approaching, one hand across his torso and energon dripping from the bared scalpel over his right hand. He realised the bot beneath him was bleeding, smearing energon over him as he struggled, but he didn’t let him up.   
  
“What the frag happened?” Breakdown demanded, squashing the other bot a little more when he realised he was frantically trying to bite him.    
“Get that one to Optimus. Knock Out’s hurt. I’ll explain later.”   
“What? How?  _ You’re  _ hurt!”   
“It can wait. Don’t let him escape.” 

He tried to protest, but Ratchet was already disappearing off into the trees, leaving him with a struggling stranger to deal with. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to pin his arms behind his back and hold them there in one hand, then haul him upright with the other. He fought him every step of the way, snarling in the strange language he recognised from when Knock Out had first arrived with them and trying to bite or kick any part of him that got in range. There was energon smeared all down one side of his chestplates and one of his arms was dangling limp, but Breakdown found little time for sympathy. What kind of person would dare to start a fight here, of all places? 

By then a couple of others had arrived, one of them just happening to have a length of cable on her that could be used to bind their captive. They were even more confused than Breakdown, and he filled them in as best he could before handing the bot over and jogging off to help his mentor. No way he was leaving the old medic alone out here, not when he was already hurt. 

The ground was torn up all around as he carried on up the hill, drips of energon splattered across the scattered leaves and skidmarks that marked the ground. He heard Ratchet’s voice and followed the sound, coming upon him near the other edge of the trees.   
“That’s it, sit up slowly. You took a knock but you’ll be okay. Just rattled your processor a bit.”   
“Ratchet? It’s me.”   
“I thought I told you to take that… that  _ scavenger  _ to Optimus?”   
“Strongarm and Sideswipe are on it, don’t worry. You’re hurt, I’m not leaving you out here.” 

He insisted, stepping closer to see Knock Out sat on the forest floor looking dazed. There was energon oozing from the corner of his mouth, but as he crouched next to them he was relieved to see he only seemed to have bitten himself. He looked up at him, scared but unfocused.   
“Oh, it’s Breakdown…” He said, dazed, and Breakdown sighed.    
“He got hit in the head?”   
“Oh yes, definitely. He’ll be fine once he’s had a chance to reset.” Ratchet said, wincing as he shifted his weight.   
“And what about you?”   
“Fragger clubbed me in the chest a few times, but I got him back.” He growled with an alarming amount of satisfaction. 

“Your fan’s broken.”   
“It’s fine.”   
“I can hear it rattling.”

“Damn your audials.” Ratchet grumbled, and Breakdown offered him a hand up before crouching back down by Knock Out.   
“Trained by the best.” He remarked, smiling a little at Ratchet’s answering huff, then turned his attention to the crimson bot. “Can I pick you up? It’s safer than you walking right now.”   
“Mmhmm.” He nodded, wincing at the movement, and didn’t resist when Breakdown scooped him up. He tried very hard not to think about the last time he’d moved him like this. Definitely not the time. He looked at Ratchet, and the old medic came and leaned on him with a great deal of grumbling about how he was  _ fine _ and didn’t need  _ help _ , even though Breakdown had heard him chastise others for doing the exact same thing when they were injured.

It was a slow, difficult trek back to the camp. Knock Out had passed out in his arms and Ratchet’s ventilations were laboured and rattling hard by the time he shuffled into the healers’ tent and managed to set them both down. “I need to go and talk to Optimus.” Ratchet insisted, and he shook his head.   
“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve checked you out. He can come here and talk to you.”   
“Someone will need to keep an eye on our prisoner”   
“Someone will. It doesn’t have to be you or him, there’s fifty of us.”   
  


As if he’d heard them, Optimus ducked his way into the tent in as frantic a hurry as Breakdown had ever seen him, all his plating flared out as he came over to crouch by his mate. Breakdown shifted aside to get out of his way, but kept working on getting the plating off his mentor’s chest to get at the workings beneath. “Ratchet, they said that you were hurt. What happened?”

He huffed. “It’s not that bad. I was hit a few times, but I’m still standing.” Ratchet insisted, then amended when Optimus met his gaze with his usual quiet intensity, “Sitting upright. It hurts, but I’ll be fine. Knock Out and I were discussing that thing we talked about, and I spotted a stranger out in the trees. I saw him… Optimus, I saw him take a spark from the ground, put it in a box and hide it away. You need to get it back from him.”   
  
Optimus’ expression darkened and he straightened up, then glanced over when Knock Out groaned and tried to push himself up, apparently conscious again.   
“No, stay there.” Breakdown told him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He froze, eyes fluttering open and taking a moment to focus on him, and then on Optimus. He sank back down onto the berth.    
“If this is true then you are right, we need to return it to its place as soon as possible.” He said grimly.    
“You doubt me?” Ratchet bristled, then winced as he tried to flare a piece of plating that Breakdown had removed.    
“Of course not, my love. I would never. I only hope that you are mistaken.”    
“We’ll have to question him. We’ll need someone who speaks their language; I doubt he deigned to learn ours before he came to violate our sacred place.” Ratchet growled, still furious.   
“I can help.” Knock Out piped up, then quailed a little when everyone turned to look at him. His eyes flicked to Ratchet’s bared innards and widened, but after a moment he managed to tear his gaze away.   
“You’re injured.” Ratchet protested.   
“I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore, and besides, it would have to be me or Starscream, right?”   
  
Optimus frowned, and for a moment Breakdown thought he would forbid it, but he just sighed. “Starscream has been gone since this morning. Knock Out, I cannot ask this of you.”   
“I’m offering. I’m not afraid of him.” Despite his words, Breakdown could see his shoulder plating quiver slightly, but he didn’t say anything. If Knock Out was determined to do this, he wasn’t going to deny him the right.   
“If you are sure?”   
“I can do it. I… I want to help.” He pushed himself upright and Breakdown paused his work on Ratchet to move to help him, but before he could Optimus was there. Knock Out froze, their eyes met for a moment, and after what felt like far too long to Breakdown, he allowed the Prime to put a hand on his back and support him. “I’m fine, really.” He insisted, then added with great effort, “But… thank you Optimus. How soon do you want me to go?”   
“I want to be there.” Ratchet insisted, then looked down at Breakdown. “What’s the damage?”   
  
He was very tempted to lie, to make the old bot sit still for a few hours, but he knew it was impossible to make Ratchet do anything when he had this sort of idea in his head. “Mostly surface dents, but you’ve got a bent fan blade and one of the dents is pressing on your fuel tank.”

“Nothing immediately fatal then. Leave the rest, just fix the worst dent and get me back up.”   
“You’re crazy, you know that?”   
“The word is stubborn, Breakdown.”

He sighed, but did as he asked. It didn’t take long to pop the offending dent out of his chest plate and re-fit all the panels, and Ratchet was trying to stand up almost before he’d gotten the last one clicked into place. All he could do was follow in his wake as he stormed out of the healers’ tent, Optimus and Knock Out trailing behind them. He just hoped this wouldn’t end badly.


	32. Chapter 32

Knock Out was still a little dizzy, though he would never admit it. The presence of the Prime at his side was more than a sufficient distraction from the throbbing of his processor though, his spark trying to phase through its casing to get near him, or so it felt. His thoughts were reeling with the knowledge that this was the bot who had created him, who he owed his existence to. A Prime had made him. What did that mean? He didn’t know. He’d have to find out.

Now though, as they approached Optimus’ tent, he had to focus. It seemed like half the tribe had gathered outside, two of them guarding the entrance while others craned their heads to try and see within, whispers flying back and forth. Everyone was on edge, deeply perturbed by what had happened. Knock Out gleaned from conversation as they passed that the hotspot was supposed to be a safe, sacred place that no wildland bot would dare to harm, and the violence here had disturbed the usual flow of things.

The crowd parted as they approached, heads nodding to show deference to the Prime as he passed, and then they were ducking inside the tent. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, but right away he saw the bright, furious eyes of the city bot glaring at him.

He was sat on the ground, his wrists bound behind him around the sturdy pole that held up the centre of the tent’s roof. Energon still glowed dimly in a streak down his side, though it was beginning to crystallise, and he was covered in dirt. There were even a few leaves stuck in the seams of his plating, though he either didn’t notice or couldn’t do anything about them and so didn’t care. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stood guard either side of him, behind him where they would be just out of his field of view. 

He didn’t flinch as Ratchet’s engine growled at him, though he kept wary eyes on Breakdown and Optimus as they came to a stop before him. His lip curled as he spotted Knock Out. “Didn’t know the barbarians brought their berth toys to interrogations,” he sneered,with a confidence that suggested he didn’t think anyone would understand him. Knock Out spotted Optimus looking at him out of the corner of his eye and he nodded. The best way to bury this aft, he thought, would be to just be honest and act like it didn’t bother him.  
“He’s being rude to me.” He remarked with forced casualness in the tribal tongue. “What should I say to him?”  
Optimus’ eyes narrowed, but other than that he showed no reaction. He thought he heard Breakdown’s engine growl from further back, and Ratchet was already glaring daggers at their captive “We have questions. He will answer them. But first he will return the spark that he stole.”

He translated dutifully, doing his best to keep the shake and static out of his voice. It was alarmingly easy to shut off the fear and present a neutral expression. He was just a vessel here, he reminded himself, a way for Optimus to be understood. But it was still a little gratifying to see the city bot’s eyes widen as he spoke in perfect Kaonite.   
“What spark? I didn’t take anything.” The city bot bristled, recovering enough to glare at them all and addressing Optimus directly, as though Knock Out didn’t exist.  
“Two people saw you.” Ratchet growled, stepping in closer and forcing the city bot to crane his neck to look up at him. “Either you give it up freely, or I carve it out of you.”  
“Ratchet, there’s no need for that.” Optimus said, giving him a warning glance. Knock Out didn’t bother to translate that. Ratchet huffed at him, but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t back away either, he noticed.

“This does not have to be difficult.” Optimus continued, his voice level and calm. “We want the spark back, and we want to know what he intended to do with it. That is all.”   
“I didn’t take anything, are you savages deaf or what? Your pet’s not translating properly, obviously. Translate that, pretty thing. Go on.” 

He did, word for word, and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Optimus shifted his stance. It was a tiny movement, but somehow he seemed to fill the tent with his presence, become instantly more dangerous and threatening. The city bot leaned back against the pole, all his plating flattening against his frame.  
“You were seen.” Optimus said, the rumble of his voice like gathering thunder. “Do not lie to me, this situation is already serious enough. You invaded our most sacred place and took that which is most precious. We would be well within our rights to kill you and take it back by force. We would prefer not to.”  
“Look, I’m just following orders. The Prime says to gather sparks from the hotspots in the wastes, that’s what we do. We only ever take the weak ones anyway, the ones growing tiny useless bodies, not like they’d be missed. Doing them a favour really,” the city bot protested, glancing to Knock Out beseechingly. He managed to meet his gaze, as blank and unimpressed as he could manage.  
“What Prime would this be?” Optimus asked, the storm growing though his face remained passive.  
“Sentinel Prime of course, the exalted leader of Kaon. His word is law, he speaks with the voice of Primus.”  
“Strange that Primus has said no such things to me.” Optimus growled, then added, “Don’t translate that. Just this part: What does this Prime want the sparks for?”

Knock Out did so dutifully, then paused. Something was starting to come together in his head, a conclusion that tied up all the information he’d learned today and that he knew Optimus and Ratchet would despise. Too neat. Too awful to comprehend.   
“I dunno,” the city bot shrugged.   
“You must know what the purpose of this is.”  
“I’m just following orders. Isn’t my business to pry, that’s how you get yourself in trouble, asking too many questions.” He squirmed a little, testing his bonds, and there was a quiet sound of metal on metal as both warriors behind him drew their blades. He stopped moving very quickly. “Listen, I’ll give ‘em back, everything I took on this run, good enough?”  
“‘This run?’ How long has this been going on?”  
“Fragged if I know!” The city bot was starting to look desperate in the face of Optimus’ fury. “Does ‘just following orders’ not translate properly? Should’ve left the toy in the berth, it really is useless at this. Hope it sucks spike better than it translates.” 

Knock Only translated the first part before he had to stop, anger turning his voice to static and making his fingers curl into fists. He thought he’d gotten away from this. He’d thought he was free. Everyone else was looking at him now, waiting for the rest, because it was so obvious that he’d missed so much out. Unfortunately, the city bot was the first to speak again.  
“Great, now it’s broken. Fragging useless thing.”

He moved almost before he realised he was doing it, taking one, two steps towards the bound bot. There was a crunch and a screech of tyre rubber on metal, and a scream of pain, and then he was putting his foot back down on the ground and glaring into cracked optic glass. The tribe bots surrounding him were silent and the air felt so thick he could cut it, but he had eyes only for this interloper. He opened his mouth to speak and Knock Out kicked him again, felt something crack under his heel, then dropped to his knees to snarl in his face. He waited until he was sure he had his attention, though his eye was flickering badly behind the cracked glass and he wasn’t sure how well he could see. There was something viciously satisfying about the black skid mark on his face where he’d run his wheel against it.

“I am not broken. I am not a toy. And you will show the respect a Prime deserves when you are asked questions by one.” He hissed, his engine growling a counterpoint to the words, then got up and stormed out of the tent. He wasn’t running, he assured himself. He was making an exit. 

He felt the weight of eyes on his back, and no doubt there would be hell to pay later, but he didn’t think he’d ever been prouder of himself.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is smut! You have been warned

Breakdown watched Knock Out go with his spark in his mouth. He’d never seen  _ anything  _ like that from him, no indication that he was capable of violence, and yet their captive now slumped against the pole, energon dripping from his mouth and one of his damaged eyes. Optimus and Ratchet exchanged a worried look, and Optimus shook his head as Breakdown tried to sneak towards the tent flap to go after him. Sneaking was really not his strong suit, he realised dismally.   
“Let him go. We will ask him tomorrow what this one said to him to make him react that way.” Optimus said softly. “And we will ask Starscream to continue the questioning when he returns.”   
“He’s not in trouble?”    
“There will have to be some consequences for attacking a bound bot in Primus’ Palm, but I suspect he has a good reason for doing so which will have to be considered.”   
  
Optimus looked grave as he said it, but Breakdown had to nod and agree. To fight in this place of new life… normally the punishment would be severe. Optimus turned to speak to Ratchet with a heavy sigh. “Do you feel well enough to patch up our guest, Ratchet?”   
“I can do it,” Breakdown said almost automatically, moving towards him. He couldn’t help but notice how the city bot flinched, watching him fearfully.    
“No, I think it would be better for you to gather a patrol. We should not need it here, but where there is one, there may be more.”    
“Very well, Optimus.” Ratchet grumbled, then ducked out past Breakdown to go fetch his tools. Optimus watched him go with something that resembled regret, then motioned for Breakdown to leave as well.

He spotted Knock Out heading out through the grass, making a beeline for a different cluster of trees. Part of him wanted to follow, but he was brought up short when the other turned and spotted him and froze for a moment. He saw him sag, then start making his way back.

“Optimus must be furious. Did he send you to get me?” he asked, his eyes downcast and wary.    
“No, I… I was going to leave you alone, actually. He says he’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.”   
“I’d rather he get it over with.”   
“He wants to give you time to calm down. You were upset…” He tailed off, not wanting to pry, and looked away. He heard Knock Out sigh.   
“He called me… a lot of things. Things I don’t want to repeat, like I was defective equipment.” He said, crossing his arms defensively.    
“I’m sorry…”   
“Not your fault. Thank you for… I don’t know, trying to let me be alone? I suppose?” He managed the faintest of smiles, though it was clear his spark wasn’t in it.    
“It’ll be okay.” Breakdown tried to reassure him, resisting the urge to pull him into a hug. “Optimus will understand. And you don’t have to talk to him again, they’re going to ask Starscream when he gets back from… wherever he’s gone.”

“I’m sure he’ll love that.”   
“You did amazingly well keeping your cool for that long. You’ve done enough.”    
“Maybe.” He didn’t look certain. “I… do think I need that time alone, though. I’ll see you later?”   
“Yeah, of course. Just… let me know if you need anything, okay?”   
“Of course.” Knock Out nodded, and he waved goodbye as he turned and disappeared among the foliage.

Later, lying in their tent trying to fall asleep, Breakdown heard Knock Out shuffling around restlessly in his berth.

“Breakdown?”   
“Yeah?”   
“I want to do it again.”

Breakdown rolled over to see Knock Out’s eyes staring at him in the dark tent, the red ring glowing brightly while he could only just make out the silhouette of the rest of him.   
“You want to... “   
“Interface. With you. I mean, if you want to?” There was only the faintest hint of hesitation on the last part, and he watched the eyes close for a moment and sink down slightly, as though he flattened himself to the berth.    
“Sure. You wanna come over here?” 

He heard a rustle of blankets, and the dark shape of Knock Out’s body crawled towards him across the tent, picked out by the biolights on his back and chest. He held still, letting him approach until he loomed over his face, then leaned up slightly to offer him a kiss. Knock Out put one hand on his chest to support himself and accepted it, his eyes sliding shut as their lips met with a soft sigh. He was warm, and Breakdown hesitated only a few moments before reaching up to rest a hand on his waist to hold him steady. Knock Out didn’t flinch, and he let his hand wander slowly up his back, tracing his spinal struts with careful fingers.

He felt Knock Out’s tongue press against his mouth and he parted his lips invitingly, encouraging him to explore. He took it, a little clumsy at first as his tongue slid inside, but he soon gained confidence when Breakdown gasped. His claws traced lines over Breakdown’s chestplates, gentle enough not to scratch, and he couldn’t quite hold back a moan as they slipped beneath one plate, brushing the thinner metal and sensors beneath and sending a shiver of electricity across his chest. He arched into it, and Knock Out retreated for just a moment as their chests touched, but it didn’t take him long to relax and press closer to him. 

This part at least they were both familiar with, and they took their time exploring each other’s mouths. The warmth of Knock Out’s body and the eagerness of his tongue soon chased away any doubts Breakdown might have had about his willingness. He let him fondle his chestplates, down to his waist- about as far as he could reach in this position- and gently stroked up his back and across his shoulders. Knock Out’s plating was so much thinner, and he responded to the lightest touch with soft gasps and squirming, though he never made any efforts to get away until he had to come up for air, warm air billowing from his vents over Breakdown’s face and his eyes bright.   
  
“You okay?”   
“Mhmm.” Knock Out nodded, resting his chin on Breakdown’s ample chest and looking down at him for a moment, his lower half shifting closer to lay alongside Breakdown. His thigh felt incredibly warm and he couldn’t quite stay still, little fidgets of plating and fingers that tickled against Breakdown’s chest and abdomen, and he couldn’t help but smile and lean up to kiss him briefly, chastely.    
“Is that all you wanted?”   
“No! I just… I don’t really know how to proceed.” He admitted, adorably awkward. Breakdown stroked down his back, hoping to soothe. “What do  _ you _ want? That’s… what I’m used to.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, promise.” The kiss was followed by another, on his forehead this time, and his spark fluttered as Knock Out closed his eyes and smiled at the tickle of it. Primus, why was he so beautiful? “I want you to be happy and comfortable with this, okay? So we’ll take it slow, and if you don’t wanna be touched somewhere you tell me?”   
He nodded, leaned down to kiss him back with a slow thoughtfulness before speaking right up near Breakdown’s audial, even though he had to lean right over his chest to do so. “I want to stay on top, if that’s okay?”   
“Of course.”

“And… I don’t know if I’ll be okay with it, but I want to try.” He swallowed, venting hard, “Maybe we could just try your fingers, and see how it goes?”   
In the quiet of the tent, he heard the low but unmistakable click of an array cover transforming away, and his vents caught amid an unbidden growl of his engine. At least it didn’t seem to spook Knock Out. “Y-yeah. Yeah. We can try that. And you tell me to stop anytime, yeah?”   
“Yeah.”    
  


He pushed himself up on his elbow to make it easier for Knock Out to kiss him and he accepted the invitation eagerly, his hands sliding up to his bulky shoulders to hold on as he slipped his tongue back in his mouth. Breakdown steadied him with his free hand on his hip, and despite an initial flinch Knock Out seemed to steel himself and press into his touch with a little roll of his hips that set Breakdown’s engine rumbling again. What had he done to deserve this lithe, handsome bot practically in his lap? He resolved to make it worth Knock Out’s bravery, to show him all the pleasure he’d missed in all his years of slavery, but he left his hand where it was for now and focused on kissing, his tongue tangling with Knock Out’s to draw him in until he could feel an answering vibration from the smaller bot’s engine, pressed up against him.

He spread his fingers a little, down over his aft, and it surprised him that he could get almost the entire curve of it under his hand. Knock Out gasped and arched his back, pressing his hips closer to Breakdown’s body, and he felt a brush of something hard and slick against his plating. He backed off a little, only to find Knock Out pressing back into his hand with a determined grunt against his mouth. He took it as encouragement, squeezing gently and running his finger along the seam between aft and thigh, then almost laughing at the tiny, staticky squeak it earned him from Knock Out.

“Too ticklish?” He let their lips part to ask, and Knock Out leaned over to chase his mouth, pressing further into his hand as he spoke right up against him.   
“No, feels good. Gentle is good.” He insisted, and Breakdown obliged by continuing to stroke him, holding him up with his hand and tilting his head as Knock Out’s fingers started playing over the lines and edges of his crest, sending little tingling sparks all down his spinal struts. 

“That’s good too.” He assured him, his voice gone strangely soft and just a little staticky. He could already feel his spike straining to unsheathe, but he refused to let it. He wouldn’t let lack of self-control ruin this, and instead focused on what he could feel from Knock Out.

There was a permanent rumble of engine from both of them now, and the warm breeze from Knock Out’s vents was constant, his plating flared to help cool him. He shifted under Breakdown’s touch every time he moved his hand, exploring the contours of his aft and hip and thigh without ever delving between his legs, even though every time he got close he could feel the heat radiating from his array.

Eventually Knock Out drew back slightly, sinking his aft down into Breakdown’s hand somewhat insistently. “I want to try. Go slowly… please? But… you can try.”

"Of course." He kissed him gently and slid his hand back up his leg and over his hip, brushing just shy of his spike, close enough to make him shiver. The heat of it was so tempting, and he paused a moment. "Sure you don't want me to touch this instead?" He asked, his voice a low growl of desire. "I mean, I can do both anyway but do you want that?"

Knock Out vented hard, hips rolling up against him to push his hand down onto his inner thigh. His eyes slid shut and his lip caught between his teeth, and for a moment Breakdown almost wanted to tell him not to worry, that they could do something else, but he seemed so determined. "I don't want to be scared of this anymore. I want to be able to make you feel good.” 

“That’s not the only way to make me feel good, I promise.” He assured him, but Knock Out just squeezed his shoulders and shifted against his hand, shivering as his spike brushed the side of his hand.   
“Okay. You pick. I trust you.”

Slowly, he drew his hand back up and let his fingertips brush along the underside of Knock Out’s spike, engine thrumming as it drew a gasp from him and his grip tightened on his shoulders. “Okay?”   
“Mmhmm.” His eyes were still closed so Breakdown couldn’t see his expression well, but there was static in his voice. He tried it again, cursing that his chest blocked his view of Knock Out, but the reward of his soft gasps and shudders was enough to make up for it. Emboldened, he shifted to wrap his fingers around him gently, the shaft hot in his hand even if it wasn’t large enough to protrude from the other end of his palm. He drew his hand back slightly and Knock Out’s engine whined at him, his hips rocking up to chase the heat and friction of his hand, and his own practically purred back as he leaned up to kiss him, whispering words against his lips.

“You sound so good, it’s okay, you can move however you want, however feels good.” He assured him, and Knock Out gasped as he started stroking him a little more quickly, giving him a little more pressure to thrust against. 

The sounds were intoxicating, and Breakdown felt his covers trying to open, a little lubricant leaking from his valve in its eagerness to participate. But this wasn't about him just yet. Maybe later, if Knock Out was comfortable with this. For now he cancelled the unlock request and carried on, peppering Knock Out's face and neck with kisses as he stroked him, letting him lean into his chest and cling to his shoulders as he rocked into his hand, his self-control quickly lost as he chased his pleasure, moans and gasps and things that might have been words at some point but fizzled out into static pressed against his lips or the top of his head.

In the dark, heated interior of the tent time almost seemed to stop, the moments dragged out and measured in the rush of vents and the roll of hips. At some point Breakdown lost the battle to keep his panels closed, but Knock Out didn't seem to notice. He ended up curled over his chest with his face buried in his shoulder, plating rattling and the faint crackle of charge under the armour visible in the low light. A few sparks even jumped to Breakdown, making him gasp and arch closer to Knock Out, though his own charge was more of an ache as his array begged him for some kind of relief, some kind of touch. It was only made worse by Knock Out's muffled whimpers, half-heard whispers of 'Breakdown, please' that seemed to shoot straight from his audials to his spike.

It seemed to take an eternity and no time at all before Knock Out arched against him with a cry, thrusting hard against his hand as he overloaded. Lightning crackled across his plating, leaving Breakdown tingling where they touched, and fluid splattered his stomach and smeared as Knock Out clung to him and sagged against him, shaking. Breakdown let his spike go and ran his hand up his side to wrap around him, loose enough that he could escape if he wanted to but tight enough to comfort, so he hoped. His arm covered Knock Out's back almost entirely, blocking his biolights, which had flared during the overload and now flickered dimly.

"You okay?" He asked softly as the shaking diminished, his fingers stroking down his back. "Want me to let you go?"

"Mn, no. I mean... yes, I'm okay. Don't want you to let go." Knock Out mumbled, still muffled against his shoulder. "'s it always like that?"

"What, having your spike touched?"

"Mmm." 

"Heh. It usually feels pretty good. Long as you're gentle." 

"Makes sense." He shifted under his arm, foot shifting in the blankets as he tried to get more comfortable while bent over Breakdown's chest. It didn't take him long to realise that wasn't really going to happen and push himself off to the side. Breakdown moved to catch him and lower him down to the berth, and he pushed himself up to pillow his head on Breakdown's shoulder. "Do you... want me to return the favour? I'm good at that."

He looked over at him, the amber light of his eyes reflecting off Knock Out's pale face. He was watching him intently, his hand resting on Breakdown’s waist and tapping against the plating erratically. "You don't have to."

"What if I want to, though?"

"I...'d be lying if I said I didn't want that." He admitted, though he almost felt bad doing so.    
“Then I’ll do it. Just… hm.” He steeled himself, his plating flaring for a moment, “keep your hands on the berth? I think that will help?”

“I can do that.” He said, immediately letting him go and curling his fingers into the blankets, palms down. He heard a quiet, breathy chuckle that made his spike twitch against his stomach, and Knock Out shifted away from him, his hand trailing down his body. “If you’re not happy or change your mind you can just stop, okay?”   
“I know. I can do this.” He nodded as he disappeared out of Breakdown’s view, and he had to push himself up a little to see.   
“It’s okay to watch?”   
“Yeah.” He glanced up to meet Breakdown’s eyes and Breakdown felt a shiver go down his back from the intensity of it, the determination there. He bit his lip, holding back a gasp as Knock Out’s hand pressed against his thigh, pushing his legs apart so he could settle himself between them and stroke his way up to his abdomen, claws finding every gap in his armour and running their tips along them. There was hardly any trace of uncertainty in him now, or if he was unsure he didn’t show it, and if Breakdown didn’t think too hard about how he was such an expert at this it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

Still, he took his time with it, teasing and touching everywhere but Breakdown’s array and leaving him trying his hardest not to squirm. He clamped down on a burst of static as a clawtip trailed down the inner seam of his thigh and hip, and he thought he saw Knock Out smile. He wanted to ask, to beg him to go just a little faster, to  _ touch him _ , but he didn’t dare try to command him lest he stop entirely. 

He seemed to have a good grasp on how much was too much, at least, and with one deep ventilation he shifted his hands, drawing a finger along the seam of Breakdown’s valve before continuing up the underside of his spike. Breakdown’s engine growled and he moaned, his head falling back and coming back up just in time to see Knock Out licking his fingers thoughtfully. For a brief moment he thought his spark might explode and his engine stuttered, but he managed to get himself under control with only a half-desperate whine, his eyes wide and pleading.   
  
Slender fingers wrapped around his spike, Knock Out’s thumb stroking over the  tip , and it was all he could do not to thrust up into it. He closed his eyes a moment, venting hard as sparks tingled up and down his thighs and over his stomach. Knock Out’s engine was purring again as he stroked him methodically, just enough pressure to build charge without letting it peak too soon. It was far too easy to relax into that touch, far harder to resist wrapping his leg around him to pull him closer but vitally more important when he could so easily crush the smaller bot. He let himself be lost in it, the tingle of pleasure and the steady, slow rhythm that seemed to match up with the pulse and spin of his spark. 

“You’re so handsome like this.” Knock Out remarked, his voice a soft purr cutting through the quiet darkness, and Breakdown felt his vents catch and stutter as he twisted his wrist for a perfect drag along his shaft. “Makes me feel powerful, being able to do this for you. I’m not even scared, it’s amazing.”    
“You… frag,  _ you’re  _ incredible- ah!” His voice disintegrated into static as Knock Out squeezed a little harder, and his legs drew up a little with the effort of staying still for him. He wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly, but his fingers seemed to draw lines of sparks along his spike. He couldn’t stop the arch of his back, the way his fingers curled into the blankets nearly enough to tear them. For a moment he thought he might have spooked him with how he paused, but he only waited for him to settle before continuing, his engine growling approval as his free hand traced electric paths along the circuits beneath his plating. 

He looked up again, met Knock Out’s intense scarlet stare, and their eyes locked for a moment that seemed to stretch for eternity. For once, he was the first to look away, his head falling back with a breathless gasp as the barest hint of claws brushed along his abdomen and he had no choice but to writhe under the touch, pressing up into it for more. Knock Out obliged, leaning closer and scraping his claws across his paintwork, and the heat of him between his thighs had him imagining all sorts of things; how he might feel inside him, how that endless patience and expertise could be put to even better use. But he didn’t dare ask, not yet, not that he could even form the words to do so, or do anything other than breathe Knock Out’s name into the night air. 

He didn’t know if it lasted five minutes or five hours, but the slow build soon had him squirming uncontrollably, his vents running hard and his engine revving with every stroke of Knock Out’s hand, the rumble of it making the pillows vibrate beneath him. Knock Out had shifted over him, lying across his hip as he stroked him and resting his head on his abdomen, his own engine purring in response. His overload, when it came, was more like an overwhelming wave than the crash of sparks he’d come to expect, and he arched up with a low, loud moan, heard Knock Out gasp as the charge crackled between them, then slumped under him with a sigh, limp and strutless and exhausted, but utterly satiated. “Primus…”   
“Knock Out is fine, I assure you.” He heard dimly, then felt Knock Out tense atop him as though he thought he’d gone too far. He just laughed breathlessly. 

“Yeah, really should be praising you, not Him.” He said, letting his head fall back. “Can I touch you? Just to cuddle.”   
“That’s fine.” Came the response, and he felt Knock Out shift to get more comfortable nestled against him as he put his arm around him. He couldn’t see him, with the dark and his chest in the way, but he felt relaxed and delightfully warm. 

Neither of them said anything for a minute or two, and Breakdown almost thought Knock Out had fallen back into recharge, until he shifted a little and a pair of dim, sleepy red eyes peeked up over his chest. “Was that good?”   
“It was amazing. You’re amazing. Not just for that. Was… did you enjoy it?”   
“Mmm. It was… you’re the best I’ve ever had.” He admitted, and Breakdown felt his spark spin a little faster. “It’s… well, it’s not saying much, but you make it so good.”   
“I try. This is… well, more than I ever hoped for. I didn’t think you’d want any of it.”   
“It’s different when I’m in control. And… well, I feel safe with you. You refused when you could have just taken me, that makes all the difference.”   
“Oh. Well… that’s just… anyone in the tribe would have done that.”   
“But I like  _ you _ .”   
“Oh…”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Well… I’m glad you do, definitely. And I wouldn’t ever hurt you. But you could have anyone, you’re so beautiful.”   
“Well, I want you.” Knock Out sighed and flopped down, nuzzling his head against his abdomen and settling there as though the matter was settled. Really, Breakdown didn’t know why he was arguing. This was amazing, and those four words had left his spark feeling like it should be lighting up the whole tent. He didn’t have anything good to say in return, so he just stroked Knock Out’s back until the smaller bot’s ventilations evened out and he seemed to have fallen into recharge, then gathered up all the courage he had and whispered what was on his mind.   
  
“I love you.”


	34. Chapter 34

The next day, the camp was rife with rumours and gossip, flying back and forth between people. Kno ck Out found people looking at him all over again, wary and whispering, and it made his plating crawl. Clearly what he had done was decidedly out of the ordinary, but there was no sign of Optimus or any impending consequences just yet. The only person he had seen enter or leave the Prime’s tent was Starscream, since Ratchet had apparently spent the night recovering in the healers’ tent. Knock Out found himself in there for the morning, making himself useful and trying to get out from under the eyes of the rest of the tribe. Ratchet’s silence was infinitely preferable, though now he was aware of its origins the tugging on his spark was harder to ignore. Fortunately, the older bot didn’t seem to think it was an appropriate time to talk about that. He was almost ashamed to find that that worried him; had Ratchet reconsidered wanting to be more involved with his life?

He wasn’t left with much time to dwell on that, when the morning’s calm was interrupted by shouts from outside and the flapping of great wings, and both of them looked outside to see the immense, reptilian form of Predaking landing in the central clearing of the camp. He transformed as he stormed towards Optimus’ tent, the last lash of his tail nearly taking out a nearby dwelling. His roar of the Prime’s name made Knock Out’s plating tremble and he ducked back into the tent, pressing his hands to his mouth to keep from making too much noise and trying to calm himself before his processor locked up. There was no need for panic, he tried to assure himself, but convincing himself of that was impossible. It took Ratchet’s hands on his shoulders, his firm but soothing voice telling him over and over that he was safe to drive the memory of the predacon’s diving attack from his thoughts, and even then he didn’t dare go outside until he re-emerged with Optimus and Starscream in tow and flew away again. 

By then, however, he had more immediate problems. Optimus’ gaze fell on him when he peeked out to check if Predaking had left, and he found himself pinned in place by the blue glow of his eyes, even from across the clearing. Clearly, the time for consequences had come.

The Prime beckoned him over and he went, unable to find the energy to resist the command. All his plating was drawn close to his body and he hated that he couldn’t meet his eyes, but try as he might it just wasn’t happening. Unfortunately, that meant he saw the rest of the gathered bots looking at him, and realised they all must surely know what his punishment would be, even though he didn’t. He didn’t know what the tribe did to rule-breakers, hadn’t had any reason to find out yet, and that thought alone was almost enough to make him change his mind and bolt.

“Please come with me, Knock Out, we have some things to discuss.” Optimus said, his voice just loud enough for Knock Out and  nobody else to hear. He didn’t dare protest, falling back on old habits and just nodding, his eyes downcast. Optimus’s frown deepened and he swallowed nervously as he gestured for him to follow, heading out into the fields where there were fewer people to overhear, presumably.

Knock Out managed to wait a full two minutes before blurting out, “Whatever punishment you have for me, just tell me, please. Get it over with.” His voice cracked with static towards the end of it, but he was strangely satisfied at having gotten it out there. At least, until Optimus stopped and looked down at him, and he felt any shred of bravery wither away under that stern blue gaze. 

“I wish I could say that you will not be punished.” He said with a sigh. “But that is not the intent of this discussion. I want to know why this happened before I decide what is fitting. All I know is that clearly something was said that upset you, but I do not speak his language.”   
  
Knock Out looked down. “It was stupid, probably nothing to be so upset about. I should be used to it. I’ve been talked down to all my life, treated like an object, but this time…” He rubbed a hand over his door self-consciously, trying to find the right words. “Something snapped. Maybe I just got too used to being treated like a person. He called me broken. A toy.” 

“I suspected something like that.” Optimus’ face was grave, and it only saddened further when his hand moved and Knock Out flinched. “It’s alright. There is no such thing as ‘too used’ to being a person, when that is what you are and always have been. Do not forget that.”

His voice was so warm, so understanding, and it was completely different from what Knock Out had expected. He thought he might cry from relief, but he managed to keep any outburst to a little crackle of static as his shoulders sagged. “We spoke to him again today, and he was about as forthcoming with Starscream as he was with you. As far as I can tell, however, he was less rude.”

“Did you find out anything more?”   
“Only that this has been going on for hundreds of years. Thousands even.” There was such profound sadness in his eyes, and Knock Out wished he could do something to ease it. “He does not know how many others there are doing this, cannot remember how many sparks he has taken himself, and he only had four on him that we have managed to retrieve. They all seem to still be shining, at least, and I will ask Ratchet to return them once we are done here. But it concerns me that he does not know what happens to those sparks back in the city. How can he not wonder, at least?”   
“They don’t encourage questions.” Knock Out sighed, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes for a moment. “Do… you wonder?”   
“I suspect I know.” Optimus said, giving him a long, resigned sort of look that suggested they might have been thinking the same things. “It is the only explanation that makes sense for how my creation could be brought online in Kaon. How many others are there, like you?”

“I don’t know. Many thousands, I would guess? I didn’t get much chance to find out.” He was trying very hard not to look like he was hugging himself for comfort, and unsure how successful he was being.

Optimus went silent for a few moments, contemplative, and Knock Out watched him anxiously until he spoke again. “This is not an issue for our tribe alone, but we cannot allow this to keep happening.” He said, looking back towards the camp as though he’d almost forgotten that Knock Out was there. “I must gather the rest of the tribe’s leaders, and we must send word to the other tribes.”

“What can I do to help?” Knock Out asked, swallowing his own fear. He couldn’t fight yet, but there had to be  _ something _ , right?

“For now, keep your eyes open and be careful.” He sighed as a thoughtful expression flickered across his face. “As to your punishment, I believe I have just thought of something suitable. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are responsible for training our young scouts, you will help them with sparring practise. It will be good for them to fight someone larger than them, and good for you to learn.” 

His wheels had tensed at the first part, but at the suggestion of sparring he relaxed. “That seems fair. Understood, my Prime.” He said, bowing his head. Sure, he’d probably be a little dinged afterwards, but sparring with Sideswipe hadn’t been so bad. 

“Please, just Optimus is fine. Come, we’d best head back. Predaking and his mate will be patrolling while we organise our own guards.”

Sure enough, the Predacon shot over their heads as they walked back towards the camp, and when Knock Out’s spark settled back into its rhythm enough for him to actually look he spotted a much smaller purple shape riding on his back. His mate, he supposed. He tried not to think too hard about the size difference between them; Predaking was at least a more reasonable size in his root mode. He followed his flight path and watched him settle up on the slopes of the mountain, looming with regal grace over the valley, then gasped quietly when he noticed three tiny, pale-plated shapes clinging to his sides. “Are those…?”   
  
Optimus followed his gaze, squinting, then smiled. “Yes, Predaking comes here for the same reason we do. His is very protective of his sparklings, just as we are. That is the reason for his anger today; he feared for their safety with violence coming to the valley.”   
“Oh. I never even thought about that.” He admitted, feeling a little guilty. Maybe he had misjudged the predacon, thinking of him as just a terrifying monster.

“He can be very reasonable, though he is prone to great anger as well. You need not worry about him at the moment, though.” Optimus assured him, reaching over as if to pat his shoulder before apparently thinking better of it. “Focus on learning for now, leave the politics to me.”   
“Thank you, Optimus.” He said quietly, then fell silent as they hit the edge of the camp.    
“If you still feel like thanking me once the twins are done with you, you are welcome to do so.” Optimus smiled at him, genuinely warm and amused, and he couldn’t help but smile back even if he had been reminded of the training he was about to endure.

Optimus turned out to be right; three hours later he was flat on his back, his fans running on max, while Hot Rod looked down at him with a slag-eating grin and poked him with a training sword. “Come on, you can’t be done already?”   
“You’ve killed me.” He replied flatly, taking a moment before accepting Bumblebee’s help to drag himself to his feet. “You’re the mightiest of warriors, it’s you.”

“Frag yeah I am.” Hot Rod’s little chest puffed out, only to deflate a little when Sideswipe cuffed him gently on the back of the head.   
  
“Warrior’s gotta be aware of their surroundings, scraplet.” he teased, laughing when Hot Rod made an indignant noise and tried to swat him back. “You did better that time, but you gotta remember to keep your guard up Knock Out. And Roddy, you can’t just swing full force when you’re sparring, the point isn’t to beat each other to death, yeah?”

“Yeah… sorry.” the little bot sounded miffed at being criticised, but did look Knock Out up and down as he dusted himself off. “You okay? Didn’t think I hit you that hard.”   
“You hit me fairly hard. But I’m fine. It looked like a good hit to me, but I don’t know much.” He managed a smile, and Hot Rod beamed at him.

“Go on, you’re all dismissed for today.” Sunstreaker called over, “Go get some fuel, maybe get your paint touched up, and get some rest because we’re doing this again tomorrow.”   
“Can you do my detailing?” Hot Rod asked, all but bouncing. How he still had so much energy, Knock Out didn’t think he’d ever understand.   
“I suppose.” Sunstreaker’s sigh was overly dramatic, but Knock Out spotted him smiling as he headed back to his own tent to collapse in his blanket pile. He was exhausted, but he could get used to that feeling of accomplishment settling in his spark.


	35. Chapter 35

The next morning, Breakdown was awoken by Starscream sticking his head into the tent, one hand dramatically over his eyes. “The Prime has summoned us all, I do hope you two are decent- hey!” He squawked and ducked as Knock Out threw a pillow at him. Breakdown snorted, much to the Vosian’s displeasure.   
“We’re awake. We’ll be there.” He assured him, and Starscream grumbled something as he ducked back out. “At least, I hope you’re awake and that wasn’t just automatic?”   
“I’m awake.” Knock Out said, muffled by a pillow, then pushed himself upright with a creak and a groan of pain.    
“Hot Rod beat you up?”   
“A little. I’m sure I’ll manage- oof.” He rubbed his back where, presumably, he’d been clobbered by an overly-enthusiastic adolescent. His paint didn’t seem to have been marred at all at least, and Breakdown spared himself a moment of pride for doing such a good job with it. Luckily he was well-used to getting himself up quickly in the mornings and Knock Out was learning to catch up, only spending a minimum of time straightening his bedding and checking himself over for any damage before stepping out into the early morning light.

The weather had turned since their arrival, the skies grey with ominous clouds, but no rain had fallen yet. Without the sun the valley seemed to glow brighter, the sparks more easily picked out among the plant life, but Breakdown didn’t have time to spare it much thought today. About half the tribe had already gathered in the centre of the camp and the rest seemed to be making their way over, and he spotted Optimus conversing with Ultra Magnus near the front, just outside his tent. The second in command’s face, usually dour, was almost as grim as the sky above.

They joined the crowd, Knock Out sticking close to him even though he stayed near the back with the taller members of the tribe to allow the smaller among them to see what was going on. He didn’t question it, just offered him a tentative arm which he accepted around his shoulders. He was almost surprised enough at that to miss Optimus stepping up and resetting his vocaliser to get everyone’s attention. A hush fell.

“My friends. Yesterday, a matter of grave concern was brought to our attention. A bot from the city of Kaon was found within Primus’ Palm, not concerning in itself, but he was caught attempting to take sparks from the ground for some unknown purpose. Rest assured that he has been stopped and the sparks returned, so that they may grow on.” He paused, allowing the worried murmuring of the tribe to die down.

“However, we learned from him that this is not the first time this has been done, nor is he the only one to do it. It seems that the cities have been doing this for generations, taking our sparklings before they can even grow their forms. This thief did not know the purpose for which they were meant, but with recent events in mind…” He looked over, and Breakdown heard Knock Out’s vents catch and felt him press a little closer as several pairs of eyes turned to glance at him. “We  believe that the sparks may be being taken to create slaves for use in the city.”   
  
The group exploded, horrified shouts and gasps and angry demands for proof, for reasoning, insistence that it  _ couldn’t  _ be true. Optimus held up his hand for silence. “Please, one at a time.”   
“How do you know this, Optimus?” Arcee asked, her voice steely and cutting through several other attempts to get his attention.    
“Because I have proof that my own creation suffered such a fate.” He said with calm authority. Breakdown blinked, confused- how could he know such a thing?- but he felt Knock Out go very still beside him and saw that Optimus was still looking at them, and the realisation washed over him. He looked over at Ratchet, off to the side, and when the old medic met his eyes he nodded grimly. Several other people were looking their way now and he could feel the former slave trying to tuck in behind him, hide from their eyes.   
“Knock Out?” Arcee’s voice caught everyone’s attention, disbelieving, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense to Breakdown. Ratchet would have been able to feel it, no wonder he had tried to hand him over to Breakdown. He couldn’t imagine trying to work on someone he had that kind of bond with.

“Yes. When I said that he belonged here, I meant it. He has always been one of us. He is my creation, mine and Ratchet’s. My spark tells me that much. His spark must have been stolen just like this, and we know his fate. It is reasonable to assume he is not unique in this.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Someone else called, and Breakdown tucked his arm around Knock Out a little more securely as he relaxed against him, the eyes off him again.    
“We attack, we take them back!” Arcee shouted, to a few cries of agreement and several objections, including the low rumble of Ultra Magnus.    
“That would be suicide. They outnumber us a hundred to one and have a well-defended position.”   
“Agreed. We would require assistance to even consider such an attack.” Optimus nodded, looking off towards the mountain where Predaking had taken roost. “And that is precisely what I intend to obtain. We are not the only tribe to use this hot spot, and thus not the only ones affected. I will send our swiftest to contact anyone who can be found- Starscream, how soon can you and your brothers be ready to go?”   
“Within hours, my Prime.” Starscream bowed, though Breakdown thought he saw Skywarp pull a face and exchange a glance with Thundercracker behind his back. 

“Just them?” Arcee cocked her head, challenging.    
“You may go as well if you wish and are certain you are able, Arcee. I do not doubt your swiftness, nor your ability to survive alone.”    
“Then I’ll go. I’m a better tracker than them anyway.” Optimus nodded to her and she settled down a little, though she was still fidgeting restlessly. 

“In the meantime.” Optimus continued, “We will remain here and serve as guards for the hot spot. Now that we know, we have a duty to protect the next generation. I will speak to Predaking also, I suspect he and his pack will be keen to assist us, considering their opinions of the cities.”   
“And the slagger we caught?” Bulkhead asked, one hand balled up inside the other in a gesture Breakdown knew well from years of watching him try to keep his temper in check.    
“We are still deciding his fate.”    
  


Several displeased and rather violent suggestions were flung out before Optimus quieted them all again. “There has been  _ enough _ violence here, in this sacred place. I will not violate its sanctity for the sake of vengeance. That is not Primus’ will.” 

“Is it Primus’ will that our sparklings be stolen?” Someone else demanded.   
“I think not. I believe there is something else at work here, though I know not what. While we wait for our allies to join us I will pray and reach out to Him. I do not doubt that it is His will that we discovered this, that Knock Out found his way to us, but we need to know more.” Optimus closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself, then looked over at the angered bot. “Have patience, Ironhide. We can do nothing alone. Carry on as normal for now, but know that this will not stand unchallenged. We have been treated as fodder for too long.”

There were a few more grumbles, but people slowly began to disperse in small groups, talking among themselves. Arcee strode off towards her tent and the Vosians to theirs, and Breakdown found himself confronted with Bulkhead.   
“Did you know about this?” he demanded.   
“I knew about the thief, I helped catch him. But I didn’t know that…” He looked around at Knock Out, who was staring at the floor.   
“I only found out two days ago.” Knock Out said quietly. “Ratchet told me, I… I didn’t really have a chance to say anything to anyone, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be. I’m just… surprised.” Breakdown said, letting him go if he wanted to escape from his hold. “I mean, I knew Ratchet was worried about your wellbeing, but he worries about everyone. And Optimus is just hard to read.”

“He’s a Prime, they’re supposed to be all mysterious.” Bulkhead nodded. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you, Knock Out. It’s just a lot to take in.”   
“You’re telling me?” Breakdown didn’t think he’d ever been quite so proud as he was when Knock Out glanced up, a tiny, wry smile on his face. 

“Heh, good point.” Bulkhead clapped Breakdown on the shoulder, a blow that would have toppled a smaller bot but that Breakdown was more than expecting it from him. “I’m gonna go volunteer for a patrol, you know Mags is gonna be putting them together. Wanna come?”   
  


He hesitated, despite himself. “Will you be okay?” he looked around at Knock Out, who shrugged.   
“I’ve had a little time to absorb this information. And besides, I believe I’m playing training dummy for the young ones again today. I’ll be fine.” He said, and it was almost convincing aside from the way he was fiddling with his door mirror.    
“Okay. Good luck. And… I’ll see you this evening, yeah?”   
“Of course.”

They separated, and Breakdown watched him go before turning his attention back to Bulkhead, and in particular the slag-eating grin on Bulkhead’s face. “What?”

“Are you gonna court him properly or are you just gonna keep pretending you’re not crazy about him?”   
“What?! That’s slag, I don’t… we’re not… I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what that means.” He finished lamely. 

“Yeah, but you do. If you don’t think he’ll get it then just fragging tell him.”    
“Oh yeah, just like you’ve told Wheeljack all about how you feel?”   
“Frag off, that’s different!” 

“Uh huh.” 

“It is!”   
“Sure.”   
  
Bulkhead pounced him and wrapped an arm around his neck, and the ensuing good-natured scuffle put him in better spirits, despite the ominous news. Maybe this really would be alright?


	36. Chapter 36

There was no way this was going to work, Ratchet thought as he trudged after his mate up the mountainside. Predaking had been an unpredictable creature in all their dealings with him, ally and trade partner one minute and dangerous foe the next, though he supposed that at least none of their tribe had ever been killed by him specifically. But Optimus was confident, and if nothing else the predacon would respect the sanctity of Primus’ Palm. 

Ultra Magnus and Prowl had agreed to mind the tribe and set up guard patrols in their absence, but only they were ascending the mountain. Optimus paused to help him up a particularly steep part, and he grumbled a little. “I’m fine.” He insisted.   
“You were in a fight recently, forgive me my concern.” He replied gently, and Ratchet sighed and leaned up to reward him with a quick kiss before carrying on. 

“I’m a tough old rustbucket, you know that. If you thought I was some wilting flower you wouldn’t have asked me to come here with you.”    
“There is that. It shouldn’t be much further at least; if we don’t reach his roost, he is sure to notice us soon.”

No sooner had he said so, in fact, than the flap of wings caught their audials and they looked around to see the vast shape of the predacon land a little further along the path, his great claws digging into the rock to hold him on the mountainside. He looked back at something on his back for a moment, then the shape dismounted and slid down his foreleg to the ground, revealing itself to be a bot.

As they got closer, however, Ratchet felt a shudder go down his spinal struts. This creature was like no bot he had ever seen; a little taller than him, painted in purple, with one arm replaced by a massive version of the blasters he’d seen a few bots sporting. What was worse, however, was the face, or rather the lack of it. Where there should have been a mouth and some kind of expression was only a single, unblinking red lens. He realised he was staring, taken aback, and forced himself to nod a polite greeting. Optimus, damn his mate’s composure, seemed unfazed. “My apologies for disturbing you, we seek an audience with Predaking. I do not believe we have met?” he said, bowing before the purple bot and the predacon.   
  
“I am Shockwave.” The bot intoned, and his voice was deep, strangely flat and expressionless as his face. “You will forgive me, I hope, for my intrusion, but I have been deeply intrigued by your findings these past days and wish to know more.”

“We intended to inform him of our latest discoveries with this visit, you are welcome to listen.” Optimus replied smoothly, his attention diverted as the predacon slunk up behind, dwarfing them all as he tucked his head over Shockwave’s shoulder. Shockwave reached up to pet him with his functional hand, still unreadable, and Predaking nodded to them before transforming.    
  
“Fortunately I am also intrigued by this. Come, we will find a more comfortable spot to speak.” He said, gesturing for them all to follow and putting a possessive arm around Shockwave’s shoulders.   
“Hmm, so that’s his mysterious mate.” Ratchet muttered as he fell into step with Optimus. “I’ve never seen anyone quite like him, do you suppose he emerged that way or…”   
“It is rude to talk about people behind their back, Ratchet.” Optimus chided, though he sounded more amused than he should and patted his shoulder as he said it. “Perhaps we will learn more during the course of this conversation.”

Predaking lead them to a cave in the mountainside which was more than spacious enough for his alt, and thus practically cavernous to the more normally-sized bots that followed him. At first Ratchet thought that they were the only occupants, but the insistent cheeping that started up from an alcove at the side of the cave when they entered put paid to that assumption. The sound was followed by scuffling, and he stopped dead when three four-legged blurs came galloping at them, each as tall as his thigh. Shockwave scooped one up one-handed without particular difficulty, despite its wriggling and flailing wings, but Predaking was left to grab the other two and only managed to catch one before the other skidded to a halt against Optimus’ legs. Just as well, Ratchet thought, that his mate was so sturdy or else he would have been sent flying. 

Predaking sighed and rumbled something at his offspring, all growls and clicking noises, and the sparkling cheeped back at him indignantly before slinking over to join its siblings in a pile near him. “My apologies, they are very new and curious.”   
“Not at all, it is good to see sparklings being sparklings.” Optimus smiled, one of the rare ones that still made Ratchet’s spark flutter after all these years. “They emerged this year?”   
“Yes, only two weeks ago. They have doubled in size already.” And it was really strange, he thought, to see such a fierce creature as Predaking look so fond. Almost as strange as watching Shockwave corral the sparklings back into the corner with horn scratches and treats and far more care than he would expect from a bot with a gun for a hand. Perhaps he had misjudged him. 

Sparklings distracted, they all settled down in a loose circle on the ground of the cave, facing each other. “So,” Predaking began, “tell me what you have learned.”

Ratchet took a deep breath and began the tale; how they had found Knock Out, and they’d both felt his spark call to theirs, known what it meant. How they had tried to figure out how a sparkling of theirs could have ended up as a city slave, but almost given up on finding an explanation. How they had then caught the city bot stealing from the hot spot, and it had all suddenly made a horrible kind of sense. Predaking listened intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his burning yellow eyes fixed on Ratchet, while Shockwave sat almost perfectly still with only a few twitches of the strange antennae on his head to betray emotion.

“This is disgusting.” Predaking growled when he had finished, sitting up straight and baring his teeth for a moment. “That they have the  _ arrogance _ to think that they can just take and degrade our creations.” He paused a moment and glanced at Shockwave. “Did you know of this?”   
“I did not. We were told only that the slaves’ sparks were artificial and lacked any complexity, though I knew that that was a lie before now.” He seemed to catch Ratchet’s suspicious frown and looked over. “I emerged in Kaon. I was a scientist, until my research attracted the wrong sort of attention. With this new information, I suspect the cause of concern was that I was too close to discovering the truth; that we had been deceived regarding the origin and capabilities of these sparks.”

“And what was your research?” Ratchet tipped his head, eyeing Shockwave critically and receiving only that blank stare in return.

“I was interested in the function of the spark. I needed subjects to experiment on, so I bought a few of them and ran some tests to determine how their sparks differed from what I considered at the time to be a ‘real’ spark. Suffice to say, I found no differences. Unfortunately,” his antennae twitched and Ratchet thought he caught a faint bitter edge to his voice, “stating such in a scientific journal was considered heresy worthy of exile. And so, I am here.” 

Predaking rumbled softly and reached over to put a massive, taloned hand on his shoulder, which seemed to be of some comfort. “I have found new purpose, and there is freedom in being beholden to nobody. I only wish my research could have brought some change.”

“You have brought more change here than any of those murderers could imagine.” Predaking growled, looking back at his sparklings sleeping in a pile, apparently exhausted by their brief escape. “But now, I suspect, we must bring more. This cannot stand. I will not see my creations taken for such vile purposes.”

“We intend to do something about it.” Optimus nodded. “I have sent word to other tribes, to gather assistance. We do not know if this is the only hot spot they have pilfered, but I doubt it. Your help may be invaluable, whether we infiltrate or attempt an assault, if you will offer it.”   
“Of course!” He stood, then lowered his voice slightly when one of the sparklings started cheeping again. “You will have all the strength I can muster. I will need to gather my pack, no doubt they will also be outraged, and we can contact other tribes and bring them here for you as well.”

“I trust that they can be… polite.” Optimus frowned slightly, and Predaking shook his head, his expression darkening slightly.

“We make an entrance by our very nature, but they know how to be non threatening when politeness is required. I have no desire to see my people wiped out again.” 

“I apologise. I mean no offense, of course, I only worry that they would be attacked.”   
“We will manage. We deal with tribes other than yours, you know.” He huffed, and Optimus bowed his head. 

“Thank you. We cannot do this alone, but I hope that together we may be able to bring down this evil. It has been a long time since the tribes have united. Perhaps it is well overdue.” 

“I will prepare. At dawn, I will fly, but for now I must tend to my creations.” Predaking nodded and stood, followed by Shockwave. Ratchet scrambled up with a creak of knee joints and Optimus managed to look as composed and graceful as ever as he followed, then bowed smoothly to their hosts.   
“Thank you. If you need anything of us, you need only ask.”

“Guard this place in my absence. Keep my mate and my young safe.”

“It will be done.”

They left with the insistent cheeping of young predacons following them out of the cave, apparently roused by the approach of their creator. Optimus seemed quiet, lost in thought as they descended, and eventually Ratchet reached out to take his hand. “I can feel you worrying, you know.”   
“As I can you. Am I being a fool, Ratchet? I know that this is the will of Primus, but what if I am leading our tribe to their deaths?”

“You cannot lead them anywhere they won’t go willingly.” He assured him, giving his hand a squeeze, though his spark clenched a little to hear him doubt. It was such a rare thing for him to be anything but utterly certain of himself, but then it was a rare thing to try to unite the myriad tribes of the wilds under a common goal. “We can leave the young ones and the new creators here to guard them, take only those who are willing and capable. You are not alone in this. They will listen to you, but they know not to follow you blindly.” At least, he hoped so. He certainly taught that sort of common sense to anyone who would listen to his advice. Gods were all well and good, but they couldn’t do all your thinking for you.

“You make a good point. We will see how things go with the other tribes, I would not risk doing this with insufficient numbers.”

“That’s because you’re sensible. That’s why people trust you, you know. It’s why I’ll follow you, though I’ve never been much of a warrior. Someone’s going to have to patch up the idiots when they get too brave for their own good.” 

Optimus flashed him a tiny smile, giving his hand a return squeeze, then let go of him as they came into sight of the camp. The colourful shapes of their tribe, their family, seemed so small from up on the mountainside, like a nest of bright, busy silicants. They resolved into familiar faces as they approached and reached the tent line, going about their daily lives, and despite his faith in Optimus Ratchet couldn’t help but wonder how many of them could be living their last weeks, should this plan go ahead.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no chapter last week, between the quarantine and house things I straight up forgot to post. I have no good excuse.

“It seems the predacon has the same idea as we do.” Starscream observed as he watched the great winged creature take off from the mountainside and soar off out of the valley. He and his brothers had gathered at first light, and Knock Out had come to see them off with some trepidation. Starscream was his friend after all, though he had never gotten to know his brothers very well.

“Optimus must have convinced him.” he observed, fiddling with his hands nervously. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”   
“Oh of course.” Starscream waved a hand nonchalantly, nearly smacking Thundercracker in the wing and getting a grumbled curse in response, “We’ll be fine, perhaps I’ll even encounter an attractive bot to keep me company on the way back. You worry about yourself. No doubt Breakdown will be taking good care of you, of course.”   
  
He felt his fans spin up and his faceplates heat, and couldn’t help but look down when Starscream chuckled. “He’s just looking out for me. That’s what friends do, right?”   
“There’s a lot of things that friends do, Knock Out, but I suspect that’s not all it is, is it?”   
He stayed silent, not trusting himself not to blurt something embarrassing, and Starscream just sighed. “Well, nevermind. We can talk about it when I return. But you should consider courting him, you know, I think you’d be surprised at your success and he’s a fine enough catch. Not that you’d have to catch him, of course.”

“We’ve got bigger problems, haven’t we?” He mumbled, hoping that Starscream would concede, but of course the Vosian was incorrigible. 

“Facing something like this is the perfect time. You might not get another chance.” He remarked, and Knock Out absolutely refused to admit he was right; he really would prefer not to think about the fact that they might all be dead in a few weeks, and it might be his fault. “Besides,” Starscream continued, regardless, “You deserve a little fun in your life. Just think about it, hmm?”   
  
“Starscream! You done gossiping?” Skywarp yelled, his wings twitching with nervous energy.   
“I’m coming!” He snapped back, “cool your jets!”   
“Get yours going!” Starscream rolled his eyes at his brother’s retort and flicked his wings at him, turning his back on the resulting rude gesture.    
“We’ll all be fine. And we’ll bring back more help than Optimus knows what to do with, you’ll see.” 

With that, he patted Knock Out on the shoulder and turned to join his brothers. He watched them take off running through the camp and, in perfect synchrony, transform and shoot off into the sky, but even the beauty of their coordinated display couldn’t quell the worry in his spark. So much was happening, all because of him, and on top of  _ that _ there was the matter of Breakdown. Interfacing with him had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he’d felt so brave, and though he far from regretted the decision he couldn’t help but worry about how Breakdown might interpret it.

He couldn’t help but worry about what it meant for him, come to that.

He was spared from thinking too much about his feelings by the arrival of said bot, fresh from an early morning patrol around the mountains. He was covered in mud from traversing the river but grinned and waved to the jets as they did a loop around the valley before peeling off in different directions and disappearing over the mountains. Only then did his attention turn to Knock Out, and his spark did a strange little flip when that smile fell upon him. “Hey, you seeing them off?”   
“Yes. I’m worried about them.”   
“They scout for us all the time. Frag, sometimes they just go off on their own for days without telling anyone, and we only start worrying if they don’t come back after a week or so. Usually just means one of them’s been taken by somebody and is having a great time.” Breakdown shook his head with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, they can take care of themselves.”   
“And Arcee, too?”   
“Oh, I pity anyone who tries to harm her, wildlander or city bot or beast. Did you have any other plans today?”

“Not really but… actually I wanted to talk to you.” He admitted, his spark thrumming with nerves as he stepped closer to Breakdown, keeping his voice low so nobody else would hear. The bigger bot frowned, and for a moment he worried that he would be angry, but he only looked concerned. 

“Sure, what about?”   
“About… I don’t know. Things. That we’ve done.” 

“Oh…” Breakdown definitely looked worried now, and it was so strange to see him look almost afraid of something, when he’d seen him take on every threat with a complete lack of fear. “Should we go back to the tent? Where we can talk in private?”   
“That… would be best, yes.” 

At least it wasn’t far, because Knock Out suspected if the silence had been any more awkward or stretched any further he might have blown a gasket from the stress of it. At least in the dim interior of their tent, surrounded by comfortable, familiar things, it was easier to relax. He sat down in his berth and Breakdown sat opposite him in his own, mirroring him while he tried to find the right words. He vented hard.

“Alright. I just want to start by saying I regret none of this. I thought maybe I would, but I don’t. You make me feel incredible and I want more but I know I’m missing something.” He admitted, his hands clasped to stop them from fidgeting. “What does this mean to you? That we kiss and interface and share a tent? Because Starscream keeps hinting at  _ something  _ and I want to understand.” 

There. He’d gotten it out, and his voice was only a little bit staticky and scared. Breakdown cocked his head at him, confused for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… it depends. It doesn’t necessarily have to mean  _ anything _ except that we like each other and find each other attractive. It’s totally normal for bots to just blow off steam with each other like that, you know? I mean, it  _ can _ mean more.”   
“But what does it mean to  _ you _ ?” He leaned forward, watching Breakdown’s face intently for any hint of what he might be thinking. What he might feel. Did he get the strange flutter in his chest when he looked at him, too?

“When we do it?”   
“Yes.”

He hesitated. Knock Out’s vents caught and he held perfectly still, waiting. “I… really like you.” He said slowly. “I don’t think I want it to just be blowing off steam. But I don’t want you to feel like just because I want something you have to go along with it, if you don’t feel the same, I’d totally understand, but I-” he cut himself off, looking down at his hands, and Knock Out leaned further towards him, intent. “I love you. I’m sure of it.”

There was silence. Knock Out wanted to speak but the words wouldn’t come until Breakdown looked up at him with the most despairing of expressions and he ended up blurting “I don’t know what that means” and instantly regretting it.

“You… you what?”   
“I don’t… I don’t know if it’s just not translating but I don’t understand.” he said, his voice coming out pathetically small. He wanted to be confident and coherent and explain this rationally, but he just didn’t know where to even start.

“You don’t know what ‘love’ is?” Breakdown asked.

“I don’t think so.”   
“Oh… well…” He frowned, his mouth pulling tight as he pulled in on himself. Knock Out could almost see the gears turning in his head. “It’s… well, you like someone, but there’s more to it than that. You want to be around them, you miss them when they’re gone, their smile makes your spark feel a little warmer and they can make you feel better even when you’ve had the biggest glitch of a day. I’ve never felt the same about anyone as I do about you.”   
“Oh…”

So that’s what that was. That flutter in his spark, the warmth in his chest, the safety of just being around him… he hadn’t known there was a word for that. “Then… I think I love you too.” he said, the wonder of it filling his mind. “I feel like that. I’ve never felt it before, but… well, I’m not used to feeling safe or happy around people. I never had that before.” 

Somehow, the way Breakdown’s eyes lit up and the sheer  _ hope  _ in his face as he leaned towards him only made him more sure. He would do anything, he thought, to see him look so happy. “You do? You feel safe with me? I mean, you should, I hope so, I… I try to be safe for you.”   
“You are. More than anyone.” He assured him, then on impulse he leaned forward and came up onto his knees to close the distance between them, catching Breakdown’s face between his hands. “You’ve showed me so much. You’ve changed everything for me. I just… don’t know where to go from here, what it means. What do you do, when you love someone?”

Breakdown grinned and leaned in, kissing him gently on the forehead. “Well, we’ve done a few of those things. But as far as I can tell the most important thing is spending time together. And… I suppose we could make it official? Tell people that we’re together, we’re mates? If you want to?”   
“What would that mean?”

“That we-” He stopped, considering his words, and Knock Out drew away slightly to give him space to think. “Normally we say that we would belong to each other but I don’t want to scare you with that. It doesn’t mean I get to control what you do or where you go or that you can’t leave or anything, that’s not… it’s not literal?”   
He couldn’t deny the jolt of fear at that word, the weight of his collar suddenly heavy on his neck, but Breakdown making the effort to explain went a surprisingly long way. “It would be equal, right? You don’t control me, I don’t control you?”   
“Yeah, that’s right. We would make decisions together, live together. And… if it wasn’t working, we could agree to end it, and go about our lives with other people. I hope that wouldn’t happen, but sometimes it does.” 

He made a thoughtful noise, his claws gently stroking along Breakdown’s jaw. The big bot closed his eyes, tilting his chin into his hands. Submitting to his will, he thought, and shoved it away. No. Respecting his decision. “Alright. We can try that. I don’t really know what to do but… well, you’ve already taught me so much, what’s this but one more thing?” He said with a cautious smile, then tilted Breakdown’s chin up and planted a kiss on his mouth. He felt him relax against him, a little of his weight leaning on him as he kissed back, and the moment seemed to stretch into a warm, tender bliss until finally they parted. Had Breakdown’s eyes always been so distracting? He felt like he could stare at them forever, and damn the rest of the world. Breakdown’s hand came up to cup the back of his head and he allowed himself to be guided into another kiss. He even dared to press his tongue to Breakdown’s lips, and revelled in the ease with which they parted to allow him access, the warmth of his mouth and his hands as they supported him with barely any effort.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, just kissing and holding each other in the dim interior of the tent, only their fans and the rustle of blankets to disturb the heady quiet, but it felt like hours and yet not nearly long enough. Knock Out was so caught up that he didn’t notice the footsteps approaching outside the tent until Sideswipe’s voice cut through the quiet, startling him so badly that he headbutted Breakdown as he jerked away. “Hey, Knock Out! Training time!”   
“Ow….” Breakdown groaned, rubbing his face.   
“Sorry! Sorry, are you alright?”   
“Heh, yeah, I’ll be fine. I guess we should uh… probably be productive, right?” Breakdown looked up and smiled at him, patting his waist. “Go on. We can always pick this up later, right? If you want…”   
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

When had he ended up in Breakdown’s lap? He clambered off of him awkwardly and headed for the tent flap, shooting a last smile back before it swung shut behind him. This could work, he thought. This could really work.


	38. Chapter 38

The next few days were almost too quiet, life going on as normal despite the pall of worry hanging over the tribe and the conspicuous absence of some of its flashiest members. Optimus spent a great deal of time in his tent, consulting with his seconds and Ratchet, and that left Breakdown manning the healers’ tent much of the time, when he couldn’t get out on patrol. It left him with a lot of time to think- or rather, to daydream. He should be worried, he knew, but Knock Out had said  _ yes _ and it felt like he was going to float off the ground with how his spark swelled every time he remembered it. On the occasions he saw him, Ratchet seemed to notice something was different but it took a couple of days for him to say anything, and when he did he pulled him aside into the curtained off area of the tent and sat him down on the berth in there, where he stared at him with his hands on his hips until he couldn’t quite keep himself from squirming.

“You know what I’m going to say, I suspect.” He said, finally.   
“Uh…”   
“Or maybe not. Let me start again. You know who Knock Out is?”   
“Well, yeah? Oh, you mean because he’s your-”   
“Yes. And because of that, suffice to say that I am invested in his wellbeing. At least as much as I am invested in yours, and rest assured I will be having this conversation with him as well. I know not all relationships last, but if you cause him any undue sparkbreak or hurt him deliberately I will carve the beating spark out of your body. Do you understand?”   
  
Somehow, the calm delivery of this statement, the casual certainty of it from someone who was usually so gentle and understanding only made it more terrifying, and Breakdown could feel himself trying to shrink down inside his chest plating.   
“Yes, Ratchet” He said, and he was fairly certain his voice hadn’t  _ squeaked  _ like that since he was maybe a quarter of his current height.

“Good.” Ratchet smiled and reached out to pat him on his shoulder, back to his usual less threatening self. “Now, I believe congratulations are in order.”

“How… forgive me for asking but how did you  _ know? _ ”

“Because you’ve been drifting around like a stunned turbofox for the last two days, and so has he. I’m old, Breakdown, not blind, and I know you.” 

“Oh. Is it uh, is it that obvious?”   
“Yes.”

“...Frag. Bulkhead’s never going to let me live this down.”

“I believe I saw a few choice knives change hands earlier today. A bet, perhaps?”   
“Who was it?”   
“I’m not going to tell you.” Smug fragger, Breakdown thought as Ratchet turned and headed back out of the tent, leaving him alone with only the dangling bunches of drying herbs for company. One swung back and forth idly in his vision, and a tiny part of him envied its uncomplicated existence. He batted at it half-sparkedly before heading back out into the main area, where Hot Rod and a burst tyre apparently required his attention.


	39. Chapter 39

Ultra Magnus’ raised brow when he came forward to join a patrol almost put Knock Out off entirely, but the nervousness of the camp was starting to get to him more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to help, but more importantly he wanted to  _ escape  _ for a while, and having the freedom to do so was a luxury he was more than delighted to exercise. So when the taciturn second of the tribe had nodded and told him to take a weapon just in case, he’d jumped at the chance.

Okay, so perhaps he wasn’t the best suited to the rough terrain, and perhaps traversing the hills around Primus’ Palm with Bulkhead and another, mostly-white bot that he hadn’t spoken to much was a bit strange and awkward, but the air was crisp and fresh and the melodious calls of some kind of creature drifted around them, and he was able to relax a bit and almost enjoy clambering through the rocks and listening to the other two banter. They seemed completely at ease with each other, almost treating it more like a casual stroll than actual work, though when he paid attention to them Knock Out could see that they were keeping their eyes on their surroundings while they talked. 

He was, however, faster and more nimble than Bulkhead could ever be, and he ended up a little way ahead of them as they crested a ridge, the valley entrance opening up beneath them, and he took a moment to appreciate the view as he scanned around for any signs of interlopers. 

A flash of colour caught his attention and he crouched, looking down into the valley. It resolved into a string of bright figures moving alongside the river, heading towards the hot spot and the camp, and he looked back to his companions. “Uh… there’s a group of bots coming in, is that normal?”   
“Might be, how many?” Bulkhead called back, quickening his stride as best he could to catch up.    
“Thirty, maybe?”   
“Yeah, that’s probably another tribe. Hey Jackie, anyone we recognise?” Bulkhead turned to call to his companion, making no effort to be stealthy.

“Answering the call?”   
“Probably already on their way here. Not a problem, just gotta keep an eye out for scouts and make it clear we’re not a threat. Don’t think we seen ‘em before though, hard to tell from up here.” The white bot shrugged, ambling over. “Let’s carry on, we still got ground to cover.”

The thought of being ambushed crossed Knock Out’s mind, but neither of the other two seemed particularly worried about it so he pushed it away. They were safe, right? Still, he touched his fingers to the staff slung across his back, just to remind him it was there. 

A flash of movement caught his attention and he whipped round, only to come face to face with a pair of intent blue eyes, only a few feet away and attached to a bot who had definitely not been there before. He stepped back sharply, grabbing one end of his staff, but she didn’t move to follow him right away. Instead she smiled, but it completely failed to be reassuring when she drew a blade from the sheath on her hip. 

He whipped the staff out, backing up a bit more and holding it defensively before him. Glancing around he noticed that she had two others with her, but neither seemed to be joining in or trying to flank him, just keeping their distance a little way down the ridge. He couldn’t see where Bulkhead or Wheeljack had gotten to but he didn’t exactly hear them running. He was on his own.

He tried not to panic. She didn’t seem to be coming after him, just assessing and twirling the sword. She was, he realised, shorter and slimmer than him, but there was a confidence to her movements as she stepped sideways, circling him, and he had no doubt she could drop him in a sparkbeat if she so desired. He turned with her though, keeping the staff up as she watched him, the sun glinting off of her seafoam green paintwork. 

He had just enough time to think ‘is this some kind of test?’ before she suddenly lunged at him, and he barely got the staff up in time to avoid being hit. The noise he made was not particularly impressive or brave, but either she didn’t notice or didn’t care because before he could retaliate she was swinging again, and the blade collided with his chest. His fans stuttered and he managed to move away, expecting tearing and gushing energon, but no, only a faint sting. She hadn’t cut him at all.

He didn’t have time to think about  _ that _ much either, and he was hopelessly outmatched by her speed as she darted in under his guard, her chest practically touching his before she hooked her leg behind his knee and sent him crashing to the ground, where she promptly dropped down to sit with her thighs across his waist. 

He froze. He stared up at her, his hands flat on the ground and his spark pulsing wildly in his chest. She was grinning triumphantly down at him, almost seemed expectant, then when he didn’t do anything she just cocked her head, the smile fading a little. It didn’t seem like she was planning to kill him at least; she’d dropped her sword to the side as they landed and didn’t seem to have another weapon. Not that that helped to calm his spark at all. 

She vented hard and blew warm air out over him, rallying herself. “Are you going to walk back with me or do I have to carry you?” She demanded, and he blinked at her. Her accent was unfamiliar, and it took a moment to realise she was speaking the tribal tongue. “You’re very, very pretty but you feel quite solid, it could be a struggle but if that’s what I have to do to prove myself, then fine.” 

“I… what?” His voice came out staticky, but confusion overrode fear for long enough to get the words out.

“I caught you.” She said, like it was obvious, and he vaguely remembered that one bot driving back into camp with a captive, disappearing into his tent with him…   
“OH!” Fraggit, why did his voice have to  _ squeak  _ like that? “I um… I’m taken? Sorry?” 

Her two companions laughed from their place down the hill and she made a frustrated noise as she scrambled off of him. “Frag! You two shut up!” She turned to yell at her friends, who just laughed harder, then held out a hand to help him sit up. “I’m sorry. You’re the third one! I couldn’t resist, you’re just so pretty and I wanted to try. I’m Moonracer by the way.”

He accepted, a bit stunned, and took a moment to reply. “Oh, I’m Knock Out. I’m uh, new to this?” His spark was still thrumming like a generator and his fans were on high, but he was slowly starting to calm down now that he wasn’t pinned beneath her. “You’re very pretty as well? I’m sorry, I don’t… really know what to say.” he admitted.   
“It’s okay, you don’t really have to say anything. Your tribe is staying in the valley already?” 

He nodded and was about to say something else when Bulkhead ambled over. “Yeah. We were gonna come and meet yours, I assume they’re the ones coming in now?” 

“They are! We’re the fastest, so we were sent to make sure there was nothing lurking up here. The journey has been…” She thinks for a moment, tapping her foot as if impatient with her own speed of thought, “unusually difficult. We were attacked, but we don’t know who they were. We were lucky we didn’t lose anyone, they disappeared off into the night once the alarm was raised.”

“Glad to hear nobody was hurt. We’ve had similar issues.” Bulkhead said, glancing at Knock Out with what he interpreted as a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. He just nodded, feeling the guilt well up before he could squash it again. “We already scouted this way, but you’re welcome to keep going.” 

“I think we will, thanks. Maybe there’ll be more available scouts up here.” She smiled at Knock Out, who felt his face heat again, then transformed into something two-wheeled and fast and shot off along the ridge, her companions following on foot after nodding a goodbye to them.

They waited until they’d gone before starting down the ridge towards the new tribe. “So,” Bulkhead said, catching up to Knock Out, and he felt a vague dread in his tanks, “taken, huh? When did that happen?”

“Oh… you know. Very recently. A lot has happened so… we haven’t had chance to mention it to anyone yet.” He really hoped Breakdown wouldn’t mind that he’d blurted that. It seemed less objectionable than being kidnapped to be someone else’s mate, at least. “Sorry?”   
“Oh no, don’t apologise. I gotta congratulate you, it’s great to hear you’re happy! Especially when we all thought you were gonna die when we first found you.” 

He stopped for a moment, startled. “It was that bad?”   
“Well… yeah? Ratchet doesn’t put much faith in Primus but he worked a miracle putting you back together so well. Pit, I thought you were dead already.” 

“I didn’t realise.”   
“Doesn’t matter,” Wheeljack had caught up to them and clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump, “You made it. You’re here. If I had a crisis every time I almost died I’d’ve overloaded my processor years ago and be a gibbering wreck.” 

Bulkhead chuckled, “Yeah, but ‘reckless abandon’ is pretty much your default setting buddy.”   
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

As if to prove a point, the white bot shot off down the hill, skidding on a steep patch and actually launching himself into the air with an outlandish whoop for a good couple of seconds before he landed and kept running. Bulkhead laughed, and Knock Out silently wished he could ever be anything like that confident. Of course, by that point the tribe in the valley knew they were there and had stopped to wait for them. It was a smaller group than their own, mostly on foot, and they had with them several heavyset, four-legged creatures of a kind Knock Out had never seen before that were laden down with packs and folded tents. Their heads were adorned with three massive horns and an elaborate shield-plate across the back of the neck, but despite their fierce appearance at least two of them had tiny sparklings perched on their shoulders and were munching at the grass peacefully while they waited.

Wheeljack skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill and held out his hands in greeting as he approached them. He was a little too far away to hear the words, but he was the kind of person who spoke with broad gestures, and the bot who came up to meet him seemed amused at least. They clasped hands, then he turned and gestured for them to come down a little faster. It was difficult to do on the steep slope without falling down the hill but Knock Out made it down to Wheeljack with minimal sliding, to find himself under the appraising gaze of a tall, graceful bot. “I do apologise for my scout,” she said as he drew level, “she is young and perhaps a little tactless.”   
His fans whirred and he looked away. “Oh, it’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting it here.”    
“Any further into the valley and I would have had to punish her, but at least she knows better than to attack someone at the hot spot, even when courting.” She sounded relieved about that, and her smile was reassuring enough that Knock Out relaxed. “You’re all welcome to walk back with us, it would be good to catch up on why you are asking whether we came at your Prime’s call.” 

“Think we’d like that just fine.” Wheeljack nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.   
“Yeah, thanks.” Bulkhead grinned as he caught up, and they all fell into step with the rest of the tribe as they followed the river back up the valley. 

They were heralded by calls from the scattered Autobots, several of them waving and calling out, and one bot even running up to the newcomers to fling himself at someone else for a hug that was eagerly returned. Other, more sedate reunions followed as they arrived at the camp, and Optimus emerged from his tent to greet the leader of the other tribe warmly, clasping hands with her. They disappeared into the tent, and Knock Out spotted Moonracer off to the side talking to one of her tribemates. He quickly made himself scarce to find Breakdown.

He wasn’t fast enough. By the time he found him Bulkhead had gotten there first, and he stood with his arms crossed while the big green bot grinned and talked animatedly. The moment he spotted him he unfolded and turned to hurry over, a worried frown on his face. “Bulkhead told me what happened, are you okay? I mean, she didn’t hurt you did she?”   
“No, no, I’m fine. She just… spooked me.” He glanced at Bulkhead and lowered his voice slightly. “I’m sorry, I… blurted it out. I didn’t know if you wanted to tell anyone yet.”

Breakdown laughed, surprised, and he relaxed as he reached out to pull him in for a delightful forehead kiss, heedless of Bulkhead’s cheer from behind him.    
“I don’t care who knows I’m yours. I’d definitely rather everyone know than you get hauled off by someone else when you don’t want to be, I was just waiting to make sure you were okay with it.”   
“I’m okay with it. I definitely like you more than her, even if she did apologise.” He smiled, his spark warming as he gave in to the moment and leaned up to kiss him back, and brightened all the more when Breakdown grinned at him.

That evening both tribes gathered around one fire, sharing fuel and stories and laughter. The others had brought high grade with them and it flowed freely, though Knock Out was far more careful with it this time and only drank enough to feel a slight buzz of energy through his lines, enough to cajole Breakdown into dancing with him again. It felt good, right, and for a few hours everyone seemed to forget the looming spectre of the last few days’ discoveries and what was to come.

Knock Out ended up sleeping curled against Breakdown’s shoulder, and he didn’t think he’d been quite so comfortable in his life.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babies!

The Velocitron tribe was one that Breakdown had encountered before, and having them there was a relief when they’d been on guard for what felt like weeks. They still had to run patrols, but Breakdown at least could focus on helping Ratchet, and he spent the next few days roaming the hot spot, checking every sparkling and talking with soon-to-be carers. Their excitement was infectious, especially once they started seeing signs of movement. Only slight shifts of limbs, maybe the flicker of an eye, but it meant that they were close. 

He woke one morning and, somehow, he just knew that today would be the day. Gently, he gave Knock Out a nudge and smiled when he grumbled and rolled over, burrowing under the blankets. “Hey.”   
“Mmmrgh”   
“Come on, trust me, it’s worth getting up. I wanna show you something really cool.”   
“Mmrgh?”   
“Trust me.”

“...’kay.” He rustled under the blankets, and Breakdown shifted his legs so that he wouldn’t accidentally brush against anything that might excite him. Not the time, as cute as sleepy Knock Out was. 

They made it out of the tent within half an hour, Knock Out still a little dozy and squinting in the sun, but Breakdown knew it would be worth it. At least, for him. He only hoped Knock Out would find this as amazing as he did. They stopped by one of the little energon streams to fuel, and once he had some energon inside him Knock Out revived a little. 

“So… what are we doing?” He asked, as they rose and headed out into the fields.   
“Well, we’ve been here a couple of weeks now and I’ve been keeping an eye on all the sparklings out here, and I think some of them are going to emerge today. I thought you might want to see?” He asked hopefully, watching Knock Out’s face eagerly for his response. Part of him worried that he might just… not care, as unlikely as it seemed. He vented a quiet sigh of relief when his mate’s eyes lit up.

“Really? That’s amazing, I’d love to see!” 

“Great! Okay, first one is this way.” He said, spotting a familiar couple crouched in the grass, and reached out to take Knock Out’s hand and lead him over. He accepted, his slim fingers feeling tiny and warm within Breakdown’s large hand, and it was hard to contain his excitement as he called a greeting to the two creators.

They welcomed them both eagerly, and Breakdown crouched beside the sparkling and gestured for Knock Out to copy him. It was small, perhaps the length of Breakdown’s forearm, and most of its length was in its arms and legs, but otherwise it was an almost perfect replica of a full-sized bot. Its paintwork was pristine, mostly a deep blue colour with a few markings here and there, and it lay on its back with its arms at its sides, its face level with the ground around it. Parts of it still seemed to be half-buried, but only by a thin layer of dirt. Its eyes were closed, and aside from the fact that its spark chamber was open and the bright gleam of its spark was clearly visible, it could have been sleeping. He watched as Knock Out leaned over, fascinated, then jerked back when the sparkling’s fingers twitched against the dirt. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, this one’s going to wake up any moment now.” He said with a grin. One of the creators put his arm around the other and pulled him close, smiling and unable to hide the excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“How long did it take to get to this point?” Knock Out asked, utterly fascinated.    
“About a year, give or take a week or so. It’s why we come back at the same time every year, to pick up the sparks we left before.” he explained, and one of the creators nodded.

“It’s our first one, this year has felt like forever, just waiting to see if it would make it.” he said, his mate nodding his agreement.

There was another twitch, the foot this time, and Breakdown backed off a little and nudged Knock Out to do the same. “This is a big deal, better to let them have space. I’m just here in case something goes wrong.” He explained quietly.   
“Is that likely?”   
“Nah. Sometimes they get a bit stuck and you have to help dig them out, but sparklings are pretty good at what they do.”

The twitches came more and more frequently over the next half an hour or so, then there was a loud click and slide of metal on metal as the spark casing abruptly slid shut. Everyone’s vents seemed to have stopped, all eyes fixed on the sparkling, and one of the creators let out a quiet laugh of relief as the sparkling squirmed, shifting the dirt all around it and pushing it away. Its eyes were still closed, but its face screwed up with the effort of unearthing the rest of its limbs and body, tiny fingers scraping away at the small parts of its torso that were covered. 

Breakdown tore his eyes away to glance at Knock Out, who was staring utterly enraptured. It was hard to read his expression and Breakdown was hardly an expert in such things, but he was fascinated if nothing else. The sparkling drew his attention back by issuing a burst of static and a few little beeps, then its eyes slowly opened. They were bright orange, matching one of its creators perfectly, and they both leaned over and smiled at it as it focused on them, blinking a few times as it tried to process this first sight. 

Its face broke into a smile, and Breakdown finally allowed himself to vent again. One of the creators reached out, and a tiny hand wrapped firmly around one of his fingers in a strong grip which it used to clumsily pull itself up to sitting. The other creator looked like he might cry for a moment, his smile seeming almost too large for his face, then gently scooped the sparkling up into his arms, utterly focused on it. 

He let them get acquainted for a few moments, then leaned forward a little to see the sparkling more easily. “Congratulations, you two. It looks strong and healthy.” he assured them, and they both smiled back.    
“Thank you.”   
“What will you name it?” Knock Out asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. The pair looked at him, a little confused.   
“We won’t. It’ll name itself, once its old enough to decide.” 

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t know.” He looked down at his hands, embarrassed, and one of the pair chuckled.

“It’s alright. Questions are good, you’re learning right?” The one holding the sparkling said, and his mate helped him to his feet. “We’ll take it back to our tent, thank you Breakdown. There must be more emerging today?”   
“I hope so! Go get settled, make sure it gets plenty of fuel, and congratulations again.”

They watched them go, then both stood together. “That was… amazing. Nothing like I expected. Do they talk when they’re that new? Do they understand anything?”   
“Nope, it’ll be a few months before it can, and it might be a year old before it picks a name. But… well, nobody’s really sure how much they understand. Enough to know who their creators are, and they can recognise other people too. Enough to get underfoot.” He smiled wryly. “They can run after a couple of days, and all they want to do is play. Gotta keep a really good eye on them.” He chuckled softly. “Wanna see another one?”   
“Sure!” 

They watched several more in fact, Knock Out seemingly equally taken with all of them, though he kept relatively quiet after the first. One was a little too buried and started beeping in distress when it couldn’t dig itself out fast enough, but with them and the two creators helping they soon freed it. It grabbed on to its creator the moment it was free and clung to her, burying its face in her neck immediately and beeping softly while she stroked its back, murmuring to it. Breakdown let it calm down a little before letting her give it to him so that he could check it hadn’t been injured, and just like it did every time he handled such a young bot his spark seemed to be in his intake. His fingers were thicker than its arms and though he was exceedingly careful he always had nightmare visions of accidentally crushing something important.

But, just as Ratchet always assured him, he was gentle enough not to harm it and handed it back with a clean bill of health and a smile before letting the pair go back to their tent. Knock Out watched, and Breakdown only realised once he was done that the other bot’s fans were running high. “Are you okay?”   
“Yes, that was just… stressful.” he nodded, rubbing one of his doors absentmindedly with the other hand. “They’re so fragile, I keep wondering how they even survive out here. I remember how hard it was being new, and I was… well, this size.” He gestured at himself.

“They need a lot of care and patience. On their own, they wouldn’t last for very long. They might do okay here in the hotspot, where there’s loads of energon and no real threats to them, but there’s a reason everybody feels so protective of them. And they do get bigger really fast, promise.” He decided not to tell him that not all of them did make it. It wasn’t worth spoiling the day over.

“Do you remember being that small? Coming online here?”   
“Not.... really? If I think about it really hard, I can remember shapes, colours, my creators’ faces smiling at me, but it’s mostly a blur.” He hesitated, wanting so badly to ask a question he suspected he wouldn’t like the answer to. Knock Out glanced at him, seemed to read it in his face.   
“I remember someone shining a light in my eyes,” He said, his voice carefully flat, “inspecting me. And then… noise, confusion, not really knowing where I was or what was happening. Being in the dark for a while. Looking back it makes sense but at the time I couldn’t understand.”

“Nobody took care of you?”   
“They didn’t have to. They hardcoded certain things into my processor before I came online. How to feed myself, keep myself clean. A desire to please…” his face twisted, then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry.”   
“It’s okay, you can talk if you want.”   
“No, that’s… that’s all. I kind of wish I could have had this, though. It sounds a lot nicer.”

On impulse, Breakdown reached out his arm and let Knock Out lean into him before pulling him into a gentle hug. It was hard to stop himself from doing more, from saying words that he knew would come out too forceful, too angry in this moment. That he should have had this, that he wished he could change the past and let him have that, or failing that, that he could beat the slag out of everyone who had been involved in taking it from him.

But he kept that to himself, and just cuddled him for a while as the sun went down. He couldn’t change the past. But if he had his way the future would be very, very different.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief interlude this time. Schedule may go out the window slightly as I'm moving house in a couple of days, but I'll try to keep things relatively on track.

“What do you mean you  _ failed?!  _ A mere drone outwitted you?!”

Drift flinched away from the doorway as his new master’s voice barked forth, furious. It had only been a couple of months since he’d been purchased and brought back to Kaon, and he’d already learned to fear the Ambassador’s temper, which was quick to flare and slow to fade and tended to lead to unpleasant things for him, regardless of the source of his anger.   
“We’re sorry, sir, “ Another voice followed, carefully controlled and formal, though Drift recognised the traces of a much rougher accent beneath the polished words. “It seems to have been claimed by one of the barbarian tribes. Our leader and most of our comrades were killed by them, they didn’t take well to having their camp infiltrated.” 

“What? Then it’s all the more important that it is  _ retrieved. _ Could you track the tribe?”    
“We can sir, a group that size does not move without leaving a trail.”   
“Good. Gather a larger company, find them, and get that slave back. Kill them all if you have to, this is far more important than you realise. The Prime himself has demanded it. No, nevermind. We need someone better. Fetch me the spider. She’ll handle it.”

“Yes sir.” 

“Dismissed.”   
  
Drift backed up several steps as he heard footsteps approaching the door, then turned and made himself scarce around the corner before anyone could emerge. It seemed bizarre that his master would care so much about one slave, but if they were out in the wastes they must have escaped…

Nobody escaped. It was impossible. Anyone who tried was always found, or they got beyond the walls and immediately exploded or something equally outlandish, so the rumours went. He fiddled anxiously with his collar at the very thought, the gold still shiny where his old steel one had been replaced. Nobody escaped, but somebody had…

**_“Drift! Come!”_ ** His master’s commed command cut through the train of thought hard enough to make him flinch, and he hurried to obey. Hiding would only make whatever was coming worse, he had learned that long ago.

**_“Yes, master.”_ ** he hurried back towards the room to find him waiting impatiently by the door, and let his thoughts wander as far away from the fingers that hooked into his collar as they could. Someone had done the impossible. Someone had escaped the city.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be the last. Perhaps there was hope.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the delay. Finally moved into the new house and spent the last couple of weeks redecorating with no access to my PC.

Starscream’s return was unexpected and abrupt, the Vosian dropping out of the blue into the centre of the camp about two weeks after he’d left, his engines clinking softly as they cooled. He stood from his crouch as several people looked over, his vents running hard. Under other circumstances Knock Out might have dismissed it as the usual Starscream dramatics, but even to his untrained eyes something looked wrong.

He wobbled slightly as he stood, his wings drooping down his back, and as Knock Out approached he spotted scratches and scrapes down his chest and wings, even burn marks. “What happened?” He asked, his eyes wide as Starscream looked up at him. He took a couple of steps and wobbled again, and Knock Out darted in to steady him. He didn’t even think about it until the Vosian leaned on him a little, and even then he could shove away his instinctive alarm at the touch in the face of his concern.

“I found three other tribes, they’re all coming. But I also found some less friendly sorts. Fliers, I don’t know where they came from, they certainly weren’t from Vos. I managed to lose them, about a day out from here at my speeds, but one of them got a few hits in.”   
“I’m taking you to Ratchet.”   
“Optimus first. He needs a report.” 

There was a set to Starscream’s jaw that suggested he wouldn’t be dissuaded, even though Knock Out had to half carry him to the Prime’s tent. Just as well really that flightframes were so lightly built, he thought. He suspected he could have lifted him if he really had to, but it was still a relief to set him down on the tent floor, atop a selection of cushions that the Prime readily provided.

He quickly relayed the story, and Optimus frowned deeply. “You were not followed?”   
“No, I made sure I lost them before I came anywhere near here. As far as they know I’m heading towards Praxus.” He assured him, settling down comfortably and allowing his legs to stretch out, despite the indignity of it. “They may not be from any city, but generally those born and raised out here aren’t inclined to attack at random. At least, not the ones I’ve met.”   
“Not all tribes are like ours, unfortunately.” Optimus sighed. “They may just be territorial wildlanders, but we cannot afford to let our guard down. At least we have reinforcements arriving, though we may have to move further down the valley to accommodate them, especially with the Velocitron tribe here to collect their newsparks.”

Optimus stood, and Knock Out followed his movements warily. “Thank you, Starscream. Knock Out, please will you take him to Ratchet? And make sure he gets there?”   
“Of course, my Prime.” Knock Out nodded and helped Starscream up, despite the Vosian’s scowl at the very  _ idea _ of going to Ratchet. “Come on, I’m sure everyone will fuss over you after such a heroic escape.” 

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Starscream’s wings perked up a little and he feigned casually examining his claws. “Well I suppose it was quite heroic, wasn’t it? There were at least five of them, all larger than me. But so slow.”

“I’m sure. It’s a shame I didn’t see it, really.” He smiled to himself as he steered him towards the healers’ tent. Flattery, apparently, got you everywhere with Starscream.

It didn’t do much to ease anyone’s worries though, and as soon as he was declared fit Starscream was put back on regular flying patrols around the valley, along with those on the ground. Over the next few days Thundercracker and Skywarp also returned, though Arcee was nowhere to be seen and there were beginning to be rumblings of concern about her. Both Vosians at least returned with tales of success, of one tribe even turning around in their tracks to return to Primus’ Palm and aid them.

Watching them arrive was a strange experience for Knock Out- he’d had no idea there were so many bots out here. The wildlands outside of the cities had always been described as inhospitable, harsh places where half-sentient bots eked out a pathetic existence, but from what he saw the bots here thrived. They came in more variety than he could have imagined, too; a tribe composed of primarily flyers, led by a massive shuttle that dwarfed even Optimus and helped to carry their ground-bound members; a tribe of beastformers that he mistook for a large herd of equines at first and had to apologise to; another tribe who all seemed to be twins and about half Knock Out’s size. He got a chance to mingle with all of them along with Breakdown, who was a reassuring presence that gave him the safety to dare to explore, and every single one had different customs, different little rituals to their days.

The one thing they all had in common, though, was their fury as they heard the tale Optimus told them. It was almost frightening, seeing so many bots united in anger, and he found himself trying to make himself unobtrusive during the debates that began over what should be done. He didn’t want to be involved, because there would be questions as soon as they realised what he was and he had no desire to repeat his life story thirty different times to thirty different people. He hadn’t even told Breakdown more than a few snippets that had been relevant, but then his mate seemed to know better than to ask him for it.

The thought of that still made him smile at least, and when the sudden crowding got too much he could at least retreat to the tent and Breakdown’s quiet, understanding embrace. He didn’t know quite when cuddling had become quite so comfortable, but it was wonderfully soothing.

More and more arrived, and sure enough they were forced to retreat away from the hot spot once the last of their sparklings had emerged, pitching their camp further down the river where the spark field petered out. Another tribe, newly arrived, camped opposite them and the sparklings of both seemed to delight in throwing things at each other across the water and trading playful calls. Just as Breakdown had said, he began to find tiny bots getting under his feet more often, the new sparklings tussling or chasing each other around at every opportunity, calling in beeps and clicks and whistles that made no sense to him but seemed to mean something to them. 

It was strangely entertaining to watch them, and somehow he found himself on sparkling sitting duty more than once, giving creators a brief break from their duties. It was easy enough, mostly involving sitting in someone else’s tent, generously donated to the cause, with half a dozen of them, and making sure nobody got hurt. They were strangely endearing, he supposed, albeit rather easily distracted by his shiny paint. And they liked to touch everything. Especially shiny things.

They were also, as he discovered the second or third time he was assigned to them, rather good at climbing. Especially when what they were climbing was an adult bot who was too terrified of hurting them to try to pry them off. At least Breakdown found it funny when he poked his head in to check on him and found him with two sparklings fast asleep in the curves of his chest plating, their tiny heads nestled against his neck on either side, and another two dozing in his lap. He managed to fix his mate with a glare when he saw him trying desperately not to laugh, and mouthed ‘don’t you dare’ at him, which only made things worse. Breakdown had ducked swiftly out of the tent, and he was certain he heard a burst of static that dissolved into fading laughter as he walked away.

He wondered idly if Breakdown wanted one of his own, but somehow didn’t dare ask. He wasn’t sure if he would be more disappointed by a no or more terrified by a yes.


	43. Chapter 43

The final tribe arrived early in the morning a couple of weeks after the first; a small, ragged group of perhaps ten bots who went almost unnoticed until they approached the outskirts of the Autobot camp, where a cry went up from their guards. Breakdown, just waking up, ran to see what the commotion was and felt his fuel tank drop at the sight of them; several were clearly wounded, holding limbs close to themselves or being carried on the backs or in the arms of others, and there was one small, blue bot at the front of the group who was limping heavily and looked awfully familiar…

“Arcee!” He rushed forward and caught her as her knees gave out, his processor kicking into medical mode and crushing any rising panic at seeing a friend in such a bad way. Her paint was scraped all along one side, energon oozing sluggishly from the arm joint and several exposed wires sparking dangerously whenever it was shifted.    
“Ow…” She rasped as he carefully lowered her to the ground.    
“The frag happened? No, you know what, it can wait.” he looked out over the others, then called to one of the guards to go fetch Ratchet and Optimus. He nodded and took off running, leaving Breakdown to assess the damage.

Aside from Arcee only one other member of the tribe seemed to be in immediate danger. Unfortunately, that was their healer, the white and red of his plating streaked with dirt and energon and burn marks from a weapon Breakdown barely recognised. He sent a silent prayer to Primus, thanks for Ratchet’s stellar teaching, and got to work rerouting lines and patching leaks while he waited for help to arrive, his emotions seemingly put on hold by the routine of it.

He barely even noticed Ratchet join him, barely registered Knock Out helping to tend to the walking wounded or Sideswipe and Sunstreaker helping the rest into the camp, the golden twin carrying Arcee in his arms. His focus was on the injured healer, and he only looked up when he was certain that he was stable and safe to be moved. 

He was alone by that point, everyone else having moved back to the tents, and he apologised to the smaller healer before gently picking him up and heading back to the healers’ tent where he could be laid down with the rest of his tribe. Or what was left of it, as the least injured of them was already telling Optimus. He was an impressive figure; tall, purple, with an intimidating and apparently permanent scowl and long horns curving from his forehead. They had numbered forty when they’d started out, and now there were only ten. His spark clenched to hear that, horrified that such a slaughter could have happened so close by.

“Did you see who attacked you?” Optimus asked, his voice low and rough with sympathy. The horned bot shook his head, then glanced at Breakdown who realised he was staring and went back to helping Ratchet tend the wounded while he listened in.   
“There were many of them. Well armed, well organised, and they made no efforts to communicate before they attacked. I do not know what they wanted or whether they got it, except for our deaths.” His voice cracked, but Breakdown could almost hear him rein himself in as he forced himself to keep talking, “We escaped only because we feigned death, or were offline when they finished in First Aid’s case. I do not think we were followed here at least but...”

“They were close?”   
“Yes. We have walked perhaps half a day to get here, in this sorry state. They are too close. Their fliers could be here in an hour or two if they so desired.” 

The tent went silent, and Breakdown looked up from the wound he was welding to see Optimus’ face darken, graver than he’d ever seen him. “It may be that they are merely another tribe, one more vicious than we are. But I suspect that they are not. It is too convenient that you would be attacked on the way here, when Arcee brought you. Especially when our own scouts were also chased.”

“Did they have red eyes?” Knock Out asked suddenly from the side of the tent where he’d been helping Ratchet with something. His own, bright scarlet on black, were wide and wary.   
“I was not looking, especially. But from what I remember, yes. As do I, what of it?” The horned bot’s eyes narrowed slightly as his attention turned to him.

Breakdown resisted the urge to try and get between them, saw Knock Out steel himself. 

“It seems to be more common in cities like Kaon than out here. Just from what I’ve seen. I’m not implying anything about you.” He twitched a bit, perhaps an aborted attempt to bow? Breakdown wasn’t sure, but it did make him want to punch whoever had instilled that instinct into his mate. 

“We have also been attacked by Kaonite bots.” Optimus explained, his fingers tapping against his chin thoughtfully. Knock Out flinched and went back to what he had been doing, but not before Breakdown caught the flash of guilt across his face. “It stands to reason that they would try again after their previous failure.”   
“But why attack us?”   
Ratchet snorted derisively, “Most likely they can’t tell one tribe from the other. They think we’re all savages, the nuances are lost on them, except perhaps that you numbered roughly the same as we did.”

The horned bot growled, his fists clenching. “Then my tribe died for nothing, merely mistaken identity?”    
“I am sorry, Cyclonus.” Optimus reached out, then thought better of it when the horned bot glared at him. “You came here to help us, and we will do the same for you. This will not go unanswered. It just means we will have to move sooner than we thought.” 

“I would prefer to destroy them myself. But… it is appreciated.”   
“You may stay with us as long as you wish. It may be prudent for you to remain, help to guard those we cannot take to war.” Optimus suggested, not without sympathy. “You are a great warrior, the sparklings of all of our tribes would benefit from your protection.”

Cyclonus sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted, Breakdown thought, and the healer in him wanted to make him lie down and rest. He knew an old warrior like this would never take such a suggestion, though. “Very well. Avenge us, Optimus Prime. I charge you with this.”

“It will be done.” Optimus nodded gravely, then looked over at Knock Out. “Will you go and spread the word, Knock Out? I need to meet with all of the tribe leaders as soon as possible.”   
“Yes, my Prime.” He nodded and darted out of the tent, and relative quiet ensued within.

Breakdown spent what felt like far too long tending to wounds, the tent far too crowded for comfort. Healers from other tribes soon joined them, relieving the pressure a little even if they still didn’t have much room to work. He got himself into a rhythm, a strange trance where all he saw was the patient in front of him, and even then they were only lines and circuits and plating, when he couldn’t bring himself to think of them as a person and still function.

He blinked as someone tapped him on the shoulder, and looked down to see Knock Out peering at him with a worried frown.    
“Did something happen?” He asked, tipping his head at him and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment in an effort to focus.    
“No, I came in to see if you needed any help and you’ve just been staring at that box of solder for the last two minutes.”   
“Oh…”   
“I… please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you need some rest?” Breakdown felt slender fingers wrap around his hand, saw Knock Out looking at him all hesitant and concerned. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, shook his head a little.   
“I think you might be right. Ugh. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on everyone though.”   
“Go, we’ve got this and we’ve only been here a couple of hours.” One of the other healers, a tall red and white bot, shooed him off with a wave of her hand. He smiled at her, gratitude welling in his spark. He felt like he could have kissed her if his mate wasn’t standing right there.   
“Thank you.” 

“Rule number one, big bot. You’re no good to anyone if you’re so tired you make mistakes.” 

He snorted, remembering how many times he had taken over for Ratchet to make him get some rest. He really was learning a lot from the old bot, wasn’t he? But right now, he let Knock Out tug him out of the tent. They walked across the camp together, the light of the stars and the vague flicker of fires guiding the way.    
“Did Optimus say what the plan was yet?”   
“He’s in with the other tribe leaders right now, they’re still discussing I guess.” Knock Out shook his head. “I’m just… kind of glad that he didn’t want me involved. I know I’m the evidence and everything but it’s so tiring.”    
“We’ll probably find out tomorrow, then.”   
“Yeah.” Knock Out was quiet for a while, holding his hand as they walked. “Will you go to fight, if they decide to do that?”   
“I don’t think I could  _ not _ fight, you know? It’s… I can’t let them keep doing this, enslaving our sparklings. Not after I’ve seen what they did to you.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”   
“What? No, you’re not a fighter…”   
“This is all because of me. And you can only imagine what it’s like, I’ve been there. If I can free others like me, I want to help. However I can.”

Breakdown stared at him, despair threatening to take him. Losing him would be unbearable, and he wasn’t built for this, all thin plating and elegant lines. Knock Out stared back up at him with a steely determination, his eyes bright in the dark. “I’ve made a decision, Breakdown.” He said, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “Are you going to take that from me?”   
He sighed heavily and scuffed his foot through the dirt just to kick it up. “No. I couldn’t. Damn you, that’s cheating.” He said with a laugh that held less humour than he would have liked to pretend.

“They’re going to come after me anyway. I might as well put an army in their way, right?”    
“I guess. Just… promise me you’ll be careful? Promise you’ll run if it looks like we’re going to lose?”

“Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I will, but I think I’m on the winning team here.” He smiled, then ducked into their tent and pulled Breakdown down into the berth with him. 

He had to admit, with Knock Out cuddled up to him- to make sure he didn’t get up and try to start working again, so he insisted- it was easy to imagine that they might win. Getting this one glorious, gorgeous bot away from his cruel masters was already such a great personal victory, and he knew he would take down the world to keep him safe. What was a few bots, a city, compared to that?


	44. Chapter 44

Optimus jolted awake with a rush of fans and found himself sitting upright in his berth, blankets tangled around his legs from thrashing. He took a moment to calm himself, a hand over his eyes, and his spark sank as he felt Ratchet stir next to him. “Optimus?”   
“It was only a dream, Ratchet. No need to worry.”    
  
It was too late, apparently. He glanced over to see Ratchet’s sky blue eyes shining at him in the dark. Usually he found them so captivating, but right now he was too exhausted to appreciate it. He was sorry for that. “That’s the third night in a row. This isn’t normal.”

“I am fine.” He could feel the skepticism radiating from Ratchet, brushing against his spark, and he sighed. “I am… concerned.” He amended.   
“You’re terrified.”   
“I prefer concerned. These do not feel like normal dreams. Do not scoff, but… I fear they are visions.”   
  


Ratchet was silent, which was unusual for him when it came to the divine. “I fear Primus is trying to warn me of something.” He rubbed at his eyes again, “There is something dark lurking at the heart of all of this.”   
“Forgive me, Optimus, but it doesn’t take a god to tell us that people who think enslaving others is alright are evil.”   
“Not just that. I only wish I could understand this message. Usually I am so sure of Primus’ will, but I do not know if he encourages me to fight this evil or to run from it.”

“What did you see?”

He hesitated, then with a sigh decided to tell him. Ratchet’s keen mind had been of great help in deciphering Primus’ messages before, even if he didn’t put much stock in gods. “A dark room made of stone with a single path of light within it. A circle on the floor, with an altar at the centre. It was empty, but it felt… oppressive, as though something vast and invisible and unimaginably evil lurked there. I could not control my own movements, I was made to lay upon the altar, and I heard the most cruel, awful laughter before…” He had to pause, shook his head to clear his thoughts. “It felt as though the spark was being ripped from my chest, though I saw nothing, only the white light above.”   
“You’ve never seen the place before?”   
“No. It bore some resemblance to those ancient temples we found in the mountains years ago, do you recall? Only it was windowless, enclosed.” Those temples had been light, airy places with spectacular views around, set into the mountainsides, and the tribe had spent a good few weeks camped near or in them each time they had been there, since everyone had found them such pleasant places to be. He would not have spent a single minute in the room from his dream, given the choice.

Ratchet sighed, laying back down. “It sounds like… a sacrifice. From the old stories.”   
“Perhaps. But I have not heard such stories for years, why would they rear their heads now?”   
“I don’t know. You’ve been under a lot of stress recently, I suppose. And it’s not likely to ease any time soon.”   
“I know. We no longer have a choice. By attacking so close to Primus’ Palm our hand has been forced. We need to move, if only to lead them away. An attack here would be disastrous for generations to come.”

“You managed to come to an agreement then?”   
“Yes. Everyone is in accord. I only wish we had more time to plan, but there is no saying what is waiting for us in Kaon. We will know when we get there.” And until then, he suspected, he would keep having these awful dreams. Ratchet reached up and tugged him back down, and he went even though his mate could never have moved him without his will. 

“Then try to rest. We need you at your best, my spark.” Ratchet informed him, his hand resting against Optimus’ chestplates as he closed his eyes. Optimus sighed, but with Ratchet’s warm frame pressed up against him and that sound advice it was a little easier to relax and drift back into dreamless recharge.


	45. Chapter 45

The next morning was heralded by a shrieking bellow echoing across the valley. Knock Out jolted awake, panicking for a moment when he found himself pinned down, but his movement had woken Breakdown and his mate’s arm slid off of his back and let him up. “Mmh? What is it?”   
“Noise. I don’t-” The roar came again and he flattened himself instinctively against Breakdown’s side, his spark thrumming relentlessly.   
“Oh! It’s Predaking, I think.” Breakdown said, pushing himself upright. Knock Out rolled out of the way so he wouldn’t have to worry about squashing him, then followed him as he headed for the tent flap. 

Sure enough, the predacon’s vast form was visible as they looked out, perched on the mountainside with his wings spread wide like some legendary nightmare. All around them others were emerging into the dawn light, creators holding on to their sparklings and the bright red and blue flash of Optimus’ paintwork catching Knock Out’s eyes as he strode through the camp to the central fire.

Slowly, blearily, bots started moving to join him as he stood waiting, and Breakdown gave Knock Out a gentle nudge to get him out of the tent. “Guess they decided something yesterday.” He said, and Knock Out felt his spark drop. So suddenly? He’d been so sure yesterday, but now the idea of leaving this beautiful, safe place and going back to Kaon sounded like a truly idiotic one. But Breakdown was right at his back, and that gave him courage. Together, he was certain, this would be fine. As a unit, as a family, his tribe could triumph. Across the river, other camps seemed to be gathering in much the same way.

Doubt still lingered, of course, but as they gathered to listen to Optimus he was greeted by several others, Bulkhead grinning at him and Hot Rod practically bouncing on the spot with excitement. He envied the youngster his lack of concern. He doubted he would be allowed to go, the tribe put too much stock in protecting their young.

“I apologise to you all for the early start.” Optimus began, his face grave, and his voice drew everyone’s attention. “But yesterday’s events have alerted us to a danger just beyond this hallowed valley. We have reason to believe that emissaries of the city of Kaon are drawing close to us. Whether they are actively hunting us or striking opportunistically is unclear, but they are a threat, and we cannot risk them starting a fight here. Therefore, we will need to leave as soon as possible, if only to draw them away. The intention is to muster our forces and attack Kaon, to free the slaves they have made of our sparklings.”   
  
He paused to let his words sink in, worried murmuring travelling through the crowd until he started talking again. “Of course, those with young sparklings and those who are not yet grown will not be participating.” Knock Out heard Hot Rod make a sound of protest, but someone else shushed him, “They will remain here and use the caves in the mountainside as protection while the rest of us are gone. We risk a great deal, and I will not force anyone to come. Those who remain may need guarding, and this is as noble a cause as what we go to do. But for those who intend to come, we will leave at sunset and travel through the night. Use the day to prepare, we will need fuel prepared, weapons honed and supplies packed. Primus be with you all, my family.” 

He bowed his head, and Knock Out glanced around to see everyone else staring back at him with proud determination. Nobody seemed afraid, or inclined to remain behind. He looked back at Optimus, and for a moment he met the Prime’s eyes steadily and thought he saw pride well in his gaze. His spark seemed to swell and he couldn’t help but smile despite the grim future that awaited. Optimus’ regard- his creator’s regard- was something he had never imagined would feel so good.

As the crowd dispersed, he found himself left alone with Optimus for a moment, found the Prime approaching him through the few remaining bots. “Knock Out, am I correct to think that you intend to come with us?”   
“Yes, my Prime.” He bowed his head.   
“I think we can dispense with formality, now.” He said, a tiny smile twitching the corner of his mouth up. “I only want to confirm that you are sure in this decision?”   
“I am. Kaon hurt me more than I am willing to say, a chance at vengeance isn’t something I’m going to miss.” He said, surprised at the venom that crept into his voice. “That, and they wouldn’t be hunting the tribe if it weren’t for me. I’m not going to sit here safe while people I’ve come to care for are risking their lives.” 

He couldn’t quite look at Optimus’ worried frown, though the expression was remarkably subtle. “Part of that, at least, is commendable. But I would advise against allowing vengeance to become too important to you. It rarely leads to fulfilment even if you are successful.”   
It was quite possibly the most gentle reproach Knock Out had ever experienced, but he still ducked away, averting his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. It’s… I spent a long time imagining what I might do if I was ever freed. Killing everyone who’d ever touched me seemed like a good start.” He admitted, and he nearly jumped when Optimus put a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt though, of course it didn’t, and the warmth of it was reassuring in an entirely different way to being touched by Breakdown. 

“Perhaps you will have that opportunity. But it is better to look to the future, to the people we will free, than to the past. Now, I will see you at dusk, we have much to prepare. You would do well to help condense some energon, we will need as much as we can get.”

“Yes, Optimus.” 

He received a final, gentle pat and headed off to help. If nothing else, it would keep his hands and thoughts busy until the inevitable exodus at dusk. The valley looked more beautiful now than ever, now he was painfully aware he might never see it again.


End file.
